


Learning Curve.  1/4.

by punky_96



Category: The Devil Wears Prada (2006)
Genre: AU Runway Kink Magazine, Authority Figures, Bondage, F/F, Mirrors, Obedience, Paddling, Slapping, Teasing, Virginity or Celibacy Kink, Wax Play, Worship, kink labels are from Dreamwidth Kink Bingo, masters/doms/slaves/subs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-19
Updated: 2018-06-28
Packaged: 2019-05-25 08:27:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 24,739
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14973170
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/punky_96/pseuds/punky_96
Summary: Re-post from LJ.Summary: A not-so-gentle push from Nigel has Miranda re-considering everything she has decided about contracts and love.  Does our favorite Mistress have one more lesson to teach?  Set in an AU Runway, where BDSM is the norm.  It's very different so remember that as you start and it's really quite different.Kink:  there's a lot of kink flavors in here my lovelies; a little wax; a little silence; masters, doms, subs & slaves; bondage(other); authority figures; mirrors; obedience; hint of slapping/paddling; a little bit of teasing; virginity/celibacy; worship...Warning: a lot of basic rope play entered into this story and I encourage the use of safety precautions and knowledge. It is not a practice I am particularly familiar with but found myself drawn to for this story. Check out: http://www.docstoc.com/docs/4356724/bondage-tutorial





	1. Choose a Safeword

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: inspired by this m/m fic: Six Hour Contract by cypher http://decyphered.dreamwidth.org/43312.html
> 
> A/N 1: Dominant/submissive: set of behaviors, customs & rituals involving one individual giving another control over them in an erotic episode or as a lifestyle. taken from wikipedia. 
> 
> A/N 2: credit for ‘leonine’ and other things to the writers of J/7, especially Patricia Givens and Tenderware
> 
> Picture: http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_4EdfK5UA_xg/StbcnJ0g0GI/AAAAAAAAARs/s_A8jJkeTfs/s320/Bondage-BlackRope.jpg
> 
> Auction fic for RaiderL. Prompt: a continuation of Lessons, Quizzes, Exam. I came up short with that idea but combined that idea with the idea of a Runway universe based on a fic I found on the KB community. The fic was called Six Hour Contract. It has nothing to do with this fic except the inspiration point and sort of flavor. This is one of those fics that I found myself writing fic sized Author's Notes so the ones posted are really abbreviated. The fic is not done, but the beginning has been beta read and I have a clear ending in my head. I'm confident that after my travels I'll be able to write the last part. The question will be whether it's a three part fic or a four part fic. Laters! punk out! x

**_Learning Curve. Part 1/4._**  
  
The red poison pen paused millimeters away from the paper. Miranda let her fingers trail over the surface of the paper feeling the grooves of her writing and the smooth surface of the words printed below her fingers. The Runway budget report always sent ripples through her mind as she contemplated the world she lived in: past, present and future. On days like this she thought it was a bad idea that she had re-written the assistant agreement to preclude sex. More than once she had dialed her assistant ready to negotiate terms for a different interaction. Who would be better to help Runway’s leader let off a little tension, than her long-suffering assistant?   
  
With a personal fortitude that could build castle walls, Miranda would flip her cell phone down on the desk, let the pen drop to the papers, and stand to cross the room. The chair against her legs was a welcome distraction to the pressures on her heart and mind. After her former assistant, Denise, had put her in the hospital, Miranda had changed the assistant job from a contract including sexual practices, to just an agreement—one without sexual practices. The temptation to mix the two was great, but it wasn’t like she had no other outlets for her cravings. Letting her mind wander ever farther she considered Nigel who followed her example by not engaging anyone from Runway in contract engagements. Then she thought of James and snorted her displeasure. Nigel had other avenues at his disposal to ‘scratch an itch’ as well—or so it would seem. ‘Then again who better to play dress up with than a boy who wasn’t afraid of a bow?’ Miranda uncorked the bottle on her sideboard and poured two fingers of scotch into the class. She preferred an ice cube but was disinclined to get one.  
  
Stepping out onto her back-patio Miranda was thankful for the warmth of the sun. Scraping the ground under it, the chair would have groaned from lack of use if it could. Settling back against the cold metal she crossed her legs. ‘Lonely at the top, cherie?’ Miranda took a large sip and rolled it in her mouth for a few seconds. It was always Jacqueline’s voice echoing in her mind. She swallowed the scotch and the wave of nausea that came with the memories. Between Jacqueline ruining love for her, and Denise and bullets ruining contracts—Miranda wanted to keep business separate from pleasure, even if it was contrary to the rest of society. A fashion magazine could certainly be run without the editor playing games with her assistants, at least not games that required contracts. Taking another large sip, she groaned, ‘Irv Ravitz would do well to learn that lesson.’ Ready to face the red ink once more, Miranda returned to her study leaving all thoughts of former lovers and stalkers on the patio, bathing it once again in abandoned [somniloquence](http://www.thefreedictionary.com/Somniloquence).  
  
*** *** ***  
  
“Why her, Miranda?” Nigel couldn’t help the curious question bubbling up. He simply couldn’t help himself, not after watching Miranda’s hawk-like eyes on the frumpy brunette’s throat and eyes during the interview. Her nod of approval fit her typical behavior; however, stalking out of the interview only to find her in his office afterward did not fit.   
  
The force-ten glare that he received only served to make his eyebrows rise even higher. “Ok,” he sighed, “Cover shots, shall we?” He moved over to the large counter in the middle of his office and flipped open the folder of glossies.  
  
The waves of tension eased off of Miranda while they focused on the task at hand. Three piles were made: automatic discards, potential covers, and follow up layout shots. From time to time Nigel stole glances at the silver haired dragon; however, he could only detect a singular focus from her. In his mind though he began to think about the potential trigger for her anomalous behavior. The usual suspects hadn’t shown up on the radar lately. Irv must be up to something because he had been awfully quiet for weeks. That thought was unnerving because when the fireworks came it would likely be a horrific explosion—regardless of the outcome. French Runway and the heartless wonder in their editor’s office had been busy planning their anniversary party. The twins’ father had been cooperative. He was not taking the ‘tween’ nature of his girls very well and had learned to respect Miranda’s strange relationship with them.  
  
‘Why else would she have stormed out of the interview and ended up here?’ Nigel tapped the grease pencil against his lips. ‘Her look had been predatory—sexual even,’ In his mind’s eye he looked the girl over once more. She looked to be a size six, which was not his usual specialty, but if helping her would help Miranda it was all in the name of Runway. The skirt and baggy sweater were changes that would take some time, because they required a shift of thought. Then he smiled thinking of a wonderful pair of Jimmy Choos that would blend in with her current wardrobe, but still move forward with fashion. In the morning he would stop by and put them on Andrea’s desk. Nigel smirked as he thought of how Miranda had pronounced her name during the interview. He just hoped the new ‘Emily’ had the sense to take the opportunity he presented to her.  
  
*** *** ***  
  
Miranda stalked the quiet corridor surveying the scenes of her kingdom. All of the assistants, associates, and sundry personnel had vacated the premises taking the vitality and hum of their activity with them. The glass walls of the fashion magazine’s upper floor held a peculiar glamour when only the main walkway was lit up. Silence chased its way down every darkened side corridor. Her blood pumped faster through her veins and her walk slowed. She could almost imagine herself on the catwalk of long ago—hoping for her first contract, hoping to be seen, and hoping to be chosen. That was in the past, but she welcomed the occasional bright flash of memory as it tingled through her body linking her to her younger, different self.  
  
Her hips swayed as she took each step forward—her toe extended down with the arch of her foot peeking out from under the hem of her trousers. The tip of her deep emerald heel touched down next allowing her heel to pull her slightly forward and into the middle of her step as she leaned forward and her hip swayed like a pendulum between each pace. Her ribs continued the sway up her body pressing her breasts against the bars of their laced restraints. Her shoulders and then her long arms played with the rhythm of her sway as she prowled the night. She came to a stop at the bank of elevators, her hand smoothing against her trouser leg. Button pressed she turned an almost hopeful glance back up the vacant aisle.  
  
It was not until the cage of the elevator gently shook open that she realized she was uncertain of her direction. The twins were with their father, the issue had been put to bed and she found herself at a loose end with no other engagements. While it was far too late to summon a facialist, masseuse or even a barista, Miranda smiled as she realized that it was not too late to call one of her long-suffering assistants. Selecting the ground floor, she crossed her arms over painfully alert nipples wriggling her clothes against her body as if that would ease the tension. Thinking first of her newest assistant with large brown eyes, she glanced at the elevator controls as her nipples pulsed with need instead of settling under the firm crush of her arms.  
  
When celibacy had been laid out as a condition of the position as assistant the young woman had looked relieved. Miranda thought it curious but was in no position to ask without appearing interested. Thankfully Nigel had eased forward and stated quietly, “That includes pre-existing relationships.”  
  
Miranda hated that her eyes had followed the muscles of the young woman’s face as she closed her jaw, tipped her head up and swallowed. The line of her neck was just visible in between her long hair covering both shoulders. Wanting to see more of the leonine neck, Miranda made a mental note to have Nigel suggest an occasional updo. As soon as the thought formed in her mind she brought the heel of her shoe down on the skin of her foot breaking that train of thought all together. The girl was just another assistant—nothing more.  
  
The brunette had looked deeply into Nigel’s eyes and said, “Not a problem.” The brown eyes shimmered with a longing sadness that signaled a deeper complexity within. Shaking her head Miranda dismissed any further thoughts of having more than a superficial knowledge of her new assistant. The celibate position was a short term one and not even a contract. Friendship or any other kind of personal relationship would be out of the question. With a nod Miranda signaled Nigel and then stood. Without another word or glance, she swept out of the room.  
  
The ding of the elevator on the ground floor broke the spell of memory that Miranda frustratingly always found herself in regarding the girl. It was maddening that this haze invaded her brain every time the girl was near her. To descend into the fog without her in the vicinity and just in her thoughts was surely the edge of madness.  
  
Angrily she pushed the elevator button to go up to the closet and practice spaces. Calling the brunette without a plan would expose her to too many unspoken questions. Sighing Miranda determined that she would find something lacking in the closet, perhaps for the run-through the next day, and then she would call the redhead instead. Even if she did not call her to the offices she could wake her, make her take notes, and then rush about in the early hours of the day to complete a new set of tasks before arriving at the Runway offices. This thought almost made Miranda smile.  
  
The elevator ding and quiet opening of the doors punctuated her thoughts of winding the redhead up. She stepped out into the much darker muted hallways of the closet and practice spaces. This was the belly of the operation. Hopes and dreams crashed or soared here where the work was done even if the heads were rolled or slight praise accorded in the glass menagerie of her office.  
  
Her eyes landing on a rack of disheveled and mismatched clothes, Miranda reached for her cell phone. The number was dialed and her thumb poised just over ‘talk’ when she heard a voice. The gentle cadence of her one-time protégé and sometime friend, Nigel Kipling, surprised her in the near dark. She craned her neck only to realize that indeed a brighter light was on beyond her further into the closet. His voice coming closer to her caused Miranda to step back looking for cover in the racks behind her. When her sudden movement knocked against a low display of shoes, she sucked in the gasp of air and held her cell phone tighter against her suddenly sweaty palm.  
  
Miranda Priestly did not lurk. Her earlier irritation returned ten-fold.  
  
The voice did not come any closer but Miranda could not be certain that Nigel had stopped his approach, perhaps he only stopped his words. The closet light remained on. Clearing the screen, she slipped her cell phone back into the pocket of her trousers.   
  
The slow-sing song tones of his honeyed voice began again, but Miranda could not make out his words. She thought to slip away leaving him to his inane self-babble which was curious but not something she wanted to challenge. Just as she pressed her toe forward she heard the crack of skin on skin echoing once in the empty space followed by the unmistakable soft whine of a female. It was a short-lived sound of surprise that Miranda thought she had heard at least once previously in her outer office.  
  
Nigel’s voice reached her ears, “The pause between smacks creates anticipation. Close your eyes.” A growl in her throat and her body pulsing with rage, Miranda had stepped fully into the space before she even knew it. Looking for the tell-tale handprint on skin, Miranda narrowed her eyes in confusion when she couldn’t find one. Miranda’s lips parted, ready to inject poison into the very air for Nigel’s obvious indiscretion. Private lessons were forbidden outside of Runway personnel. Nigel’s hands clapped together loudly in the quiet room. The lecture never came, for its first words were swallowed back in a gulp of realization. The female whimper following a split second after the crack of Nigel’s hand against his own stopped all the words in her throat. Miranda’s eyes widened as she matched that whimper to the body it emanated from. She looked at her exceptionally calm right-hand man. Quietly he said to the trembling brunette kneeling with her hands forward against the desk, “Only three more.” He looked at Miranda again watching her as she watched his hands separate, pause for a second in the air, and then crash together with a steady force.  
  
Unseeing Andrea whimpered and Miranda felt the rage leave her body, chased by a wave of arousal. Looking at the image in front of her Miranda couldn’t help the faster pulse of her heart. Except for the bared ass cheek, Andrea looked as if she was simply standing at the desk talking to someone on the other side. The picture of innocence was only disrupted by the fact that the pants had been pulled down just enough to reveal her curved cheeks. The underpants were only pushed up on the one side showing Andrea’s untouched ass. The push-pull between innocent and something bordering on intensely sexual captured Miranda’s attention fully. It was all she could do to stay still instead of stepping forward. The desire was overwhelming to rip the pants all the way down to Andrea’s knees, pulling the underwear down as she did.  
  
The focus of the scene clear to her, Miranda struggled between her emotions. On the one hand Nigel was clearly engaged in unauthorized lessons of a celibate and yet she found that her only clear impulse was to take over, not stop him—only the tingling in her fingertips clearly indicated that she wouldn’t be clapping her hands for effect.  No no no, that tingle meant a much more direct approach.  
  
“Good girl.” Nigel soothed his whimpering charge. His eyes never left Miranda’s as he pulled his hands apart once more.  
  
The crash of Nigel’s hands resounded once more and the brunette’s whimper had slipped into desire which caused Miranda to jolt in her skin with the sudden flood of her own arousal. Over Andrea’s head, Nigel raised his eyes in question spurring Miranda to snap out of it. His slight smirk letting her know the lesson was nearly done and she had better step up or slip away into the shadows.  
  
Her eyes darted up from devouring the contrasted image of innocence and sex and landed on his eyes. “Last one,” Nigel said to Andrea, “Keep your eyes closed.” He opened his palms again. Miranda turned on her emerald stilettos and stalked away too quickly for her sway to manifest itself as it had done earlier. Her assistant’s whimper was the last sound echoing in her mind before the ding of the elevator sliding open for her.  
  
*** *** ***  
  
Miranda crossed her legs, the fabric of her skirt riding up and to the side as her thigh slid underneath. Restless, she had been haunted by a jumble of dreams: a mixture of her past, present, and she hoped the future. Miranda had grown up too fast, been contracted by the kind that liked to push people to the limits. She had learned from it all and eventually flipped the situation, but she would prefer that others did not have to be tried so hard before they were set free. After the twins’ arrival, she had focused on the magazine, letting power plays of fashion blend with the tantalizing visuals to give her the inspiration she needed to focus on one thing only—her climb to the top and securing that reign. It was one of the reasons that the assistant position was declared celibate, which in turn was one of many reasons that the girls rotated out so quickly. She often wondered why they clamored around her even knowing she would not yield. Miranda Priestly had not taken a contract or a lover in many years.  
  
Over time she earned the reputation of dragon—breathing a cold fire and letting no one touch her. The image was a false one, but there were so few that could attest to that—and none that would tell her secrets anyway.  
  
Sighing Miranda turned in her chair holding her lukewarm Starbucks to her chest as she looked out on the sunlight bathing the city in its glow. From this high it was possible to imagine that the city was a different kind of place. Miranda gave a wry half-smile at the thought and sipped the last of her coffee.  
  
In the daylight she could deny that change was on the horizon. She could distance herself from doe-eyed temptation or have it stand in her office waiting on her every word. The flutters in her body could be attributed to seeing a diamond in the rough losing the grime as the sparkle began to show through. She could act in accordance with the idea that she had facilitated this blossoming through choosing the dark-haired woman, giving her tasks, and telling Nigel to bring her up to speed. All of these things could be declared in the light of day when Miranda’s walls of editor in chief were at full force and she could override the stirrings in her heart.  
  
The visions of the night time in her dreams and when she tossed and turned reluctantly awake: well, those could not be denied so easily.  
  
It would seem like a butterfly emerging from its cocoon that Miranda had yet another change in her. Feelings, desires and needs long deferred or distracted had found the object of their collective attention and focused entirely on the rough around the edges, inexperienced, lanky brunette—whether Miranda wanted to admit it or not, and she most emphatically did not. It was as if Andrea emitted a radio frequency that her body’s very core was attuned to. She found herself sending Emily on more and more errands so that the brunette could stay close, bringing the girl with her even when not strictly necessary, and lingering near her own foyer to watch Andrea’s nocturnal book delivery.  
  
**Assistant** : one-year, renewable position, celibate status, obeys commands of senior staff.  
  
The description echoing in her head, Miranda found her anger and latched onto it. Nigel could not give orders like that to a celibate; she would not allow it. Spinning in her chair Miranda was standing before she set the coffee cup on her desk. The leather brushed against the backs of her thighs spurring her forward. Without a sideways glance she stalked out of her office knowing that he would be down in the closet after the disaster of an editorial meeting that morning.  
  
Her body language carried the tension of a fighter waiting for the bell and it rolled off her in waves. She aimed a glare at him set for stun as she stalked by him and into a nearby practice room. He raised his eyebrows and pursed his lips uncertain what he had done to bring down her wrath. At the staff meeting he had been the only one she had not eviscerated. Setting his things down he briefly wondered if it was a final kindness before the slaughter—a prisoner’s last meal of sorts.  
  
Her back to him he could see her arms were bent and held across her chest. Leaning against the small prop table just inside the door he let it close with a quiet click. His wonder at what had her so angry she had to hold onto herself was further mystified when she spoke, “Where do you get off giving orders like that?”  
  
Nigel slipped his glasses off and pinched the bridge of his nose as he mentally ran over the list of orders he had given recently. Finding nothing unusual for Runway he shook his head and slipped the glasses back on. He let out a half chuckle as he shrugged at Miranda’s back, “I have no idea what you are talking about.”  
  
Miranda turned on him her blue eyes dark with rage. Her fingers flexed against her bare forearms and then she held them behind her back. Nigel sank a little heavier against the table recognizing Miranda’s ‘giving a lesson’ posture from the old days.   
  
“Just because she has to obey all orders of senior staff, doesn’t mean that you can take advantage like that.” Nigel’s jaw dropped and his upper body leaned forward yearning to protest, but it died in his throat. Miranda was pacing in front of him with her hands behind her back clearly intent on delivering her full message, composed (he didn’t doubt) on the elevator ride down to the closet. Sucking in a breath of air he crossed his own arms over his chest defensively. She swung around and muttered something so low that he could not hear her. As she stepped away from him he finally heard her clearly, “—Not to mention giving unauthorized lessons to a celibate.”  
  
Like the answer had smacked him in the forehead, Nigel gave another half laugh, “You mean, Six?” He interrupted her before he could think better of it, but just decided to go with it and shrugged as she turned on him expectantly. The nickname hadn’t registered, but his playful answer had stopped her dead in her tracks. He could tell she was going to give him just enough rope to hang himself with. Chuckling without sound again he clarified, “Andrea?”  
  
Blue eyes narrowed at him, but still shot daggers, and then Miranda gave a small silent nod.  
  
Nigel covered his mouth with his hand and then gestured in the air as he hoped the best way to explain would come to him. As Miranda’s eyes followed his hand her anger renewed thinking of the possibilities other than clapping that could have happened that night.  
  
“She had questions, Miranda.” Nigel felt her gaze on his hand and let it drop to his side. “I didn’t give any orders and it was not meant to be a series of lessons.” He stopped letting his words sink in. When Miranda did not continue her verbal assault, he took the time to examine her and think about her severe, although delayed, reaction. It had been nearly a full week ago when she had silently walked in and out of his session with Andrea. Focusing his eyes on Miranda, a realization began to form in his mind ‘This is about Andrea, not lessons.’ Following his thoughts, he added to Miranda, “I did not touch her in any way, Miranda.” Her tension relaxed a fraction and he knew that he had said the right thing.  
  
Feeling like he was on the edge of answers that perhaps Miranda hadn’t even found, he added, “She knows that there are only months left on her agreement, and that you might not renew her. She wants to be ready when the time comes for her to take a contract.” Miranda crossed her arms over her chest again, but this time her body language was guarded and it seemed like a defensive mechanism. Her blue eyes flashed with questions. “Between her double major and activities, she has never taken a contract.” He said quietly. “Nor has she had time for anything other than superficial dating.”  
  
At her surprised gasp he simply nodded.  
  
Their eyes met and suddenly pieces fell into place for both of them. Nigel understood that something in Miranda had changed, but he wasn’t sure she was ready for it, while Miranda understood that the girl was looking for answers that she felt only she should provide. Teetering on different precipices they looked at each other for long moments repairing the peace between them with each breath.  
  
Finally Nigel squared his shoulders his decision made. “I can’t give her the lessons she needs, Miranda. As much as I like to play and as much as I love the stinging sensation in my hands.” He held up one of his hands as if to draw her vividly back to the scene she had witnessed. From her tiny movement closer he knew he had her on the line. “I’m not the girl for her.” He said with a knowing look over the top of his glasses.  
  
Much had been said and so much more had been communicated. Miranda felt that he was asking her to do something, but as she recalled his statement she could not pinpoint what exactly, except that he had basically said Andrea’s innocence was safe with him. She felt something in her breaking loose but was at a loss to determine what. She only knew that she needed to get some quality sleep soon or these issues would cause her focus on the magazine to slip.  
  
With a welcoming smile Nigel forged ahead; he could see his path clearly now and if it could help both of his friends, then who was he not to walk ahead. “Maybe it’s time for you to come out of retirement, Miranda?” Her eyes shot up to his again in wonderment. “After the lesson you gave to me just now I know you’ve still got the mojo.”  
  
An undignified snort shot up through Miranda’s thin frame and Nigel was glad that he had shut the door after all.  
  
“Nigel, don’t be silly.” Miranda shook her head and then stepped in a small circle within the practice room. He could tell she was interested, but he knew she would fight it. Her last contract had turned messy when the woman had become obsessed with her and nearly took both of their lives in her desperation to have her. Her last lover had been nothing short of a nightmare and even with an ocean separating them professional responsibilities brought frequent enough reminders that love and Jacqueline Follet were like oil and vinegar.  
  
“The clock is ticking, Miranda. Will you renew her and tether the both of you in another full year of celibacy or will you take the time to get to know her through lessons? The chemistry you have developed already in the last eight months has been exhilarating to watch. Celibate lessons offer the shelter of being neither a contract or a relationship.” He waited a few moments and when no response was forthcoming he decided to leave one more thought with her. “She has so many questions, Miranda. Look in her eyes. You have so many answers and it is within you to give this of yourself.” He stepped forward and gave her a hard look as he set his hand on her shoulder. After a few moments looking into the storm of those blue eyes he turned and left her to the silence of the practice room. Perhaps the quietude would speak to her, reminding her of lessons taught, and those still to come and her place within all of it.  
  
*** *** ***  
  
Waiting for the book was its own form of torture. Andrea had no idea why Miranda would want to even look at the book after pulling eight to sixteen-hour days. True, it was rare to have a sixteen-hour day, but it was even rarer to have an eight-hour one. Nothing short of an emergency with the twins would bring the editor to a halt, and even then, it was more of a pause than a stop as she diverted work to others, prepared to take it home, and set everyone else on a red alert through phone, email, and word of mouth. Thinking of Voyager re-runs Andrea wished that technology would hurry and catch up because as her favorite character would say, “Waiting is inefficient.” Groaning she then thought that her same favorite character would say that her happiness ‘was irrelevant.’ Rolling her eyes, she gave a grim stare around the empty area.  
  
Realizing that she had better get some sleep Andrea rubbed her hands over her face. Runway with all the clackers and intrigue was not that different from a spaceship. ‘And that thought alone shows just how much I need sleep,’ Andrea thought as she paced into the kitchen. She opened the mini-fridge and eyed Emily’s cheese cubes and Miranda’s San Pellegrinos. Sighing she remembered that the Auto World guys had shown her where their vending machine was. She wondered vaguely if they had a Closet, but then supposed that they would have a Garage. She giggled a bit and closed the door. Finding exactly $1.75 in her purse Andrea made her way to the elevators and a sinful distraction from her inefficient, irrelevant waiting.  
  
Andrea desperately hoped for Cheetos and a diet coke; she must need the sugar.  
  
*** *** ***  
  
The card on her desk was unnerving. Everyone had left Runway. Andrea had been sure of that before she went in search of her illicit treat. Had anyone been there to witness her caloric indiscretion then surely some kind of Food Alarm would have gone off. Yet the appearance of the envelope a full two hours before the book was to be delivered was curious. She approached it with some stealth although the slight size of the envelope excluded the possibility of snakes or indeed even a jack-in-the-box head from coming out of it. It reminded her of those florist envelopes although it was pure white and had no insignia or other marking on it. The letter ‘A’ was clear on the outside and she was certain she was the only one with that initial in the nearby area. Replacing the cap on her diet coke Andrea slipped it into her purse just in case.   
  
She slipped the note from its envelope and read only three words, ‘Practice Room Now.’  
  
Looking at the clock Andrea knew there was plenty of time to visit the other floor and come back for the book. Furtively she looked up and down the nearby space wondering if it was a prank. Then her curiosity won the battle over caution and she rose to her feet. She slipped the message into its envelope and then deposited that into her purse, which she stashed in her desk drawer. If worst came to worst they would find her purse and the clue to her whereabouts. Andrea smoothed her clothes down and then proceeded back to the elevators.  
  
*** *** ***  
  
Nothing could have prepared her for walking into the closet only to find the light on in one practice room. At least she didn’t have to wander around amidst all the busyness that was normally the Closet. On the other hand, it was intimidating knowing that she was walking into an unknown situation that suddenly felt threatening. Absently thinking of horror films, she wondered if this was what the women felt as they walked outside where the killer was stalking them. Her own internal dialogue did nothing to ease her heart rate or dry her sweaty palms. She tried to summon her favorite character once again and reminded herself that, ‘fear was irrelevant.’ It didn’t really help.  
  
Approaching the practice room Andy cautiously stepped inside. Sitting at the small prop table was none other than her boss, Miranda Priestly. “Sit.” Her voice was quiet as she glanced at the trembling brunette. Hardly missing a beat, she looked down again at a set of photos spread out on the table.  
  
Andrea sat as quietly as she could. She caught herself staring at Miranda and forced herself to look at the seam in the wall to the left of her. Unbidden her eyes kept gravitating back to the editor. Questions welled up in her mind and she wrestled with them biting her tongue and cheek when necessary. Her hands danced from clasped together to pressed against her trouser legs to hanging at her sides. She realized that Miranda or at least Emily would comment about being a gorilla with that posture and she immediately crossed her hands in her lap again. Her right leg came up over the left and she held one hand on her knee and the other on her thigh. Then she settled her legs down again holding her knees tightly together. She continued in this way until Miranda at length sighed. “Be still.” She did not look up to even confirm that her order would be followed.  
  
Her only rebellion a loud puff of air, Andrea crossed her ankles and clasped her hands together in her lap. This form of waiting while prettier than sitting at her desk upstairs was more excruciating. She wondered why, like Alice, she had followed the lead of the white rabbit down the hole. It was a curious thing indeed. Half of her thought that she should have hidden from the mysterious missive in the Auto World staff lounge. They had very interesting magazines on their break tables.  
  
The only way for Andrea to tell time was by counting heartbeats, but she lost count every time Miranda moved. In fact, if she moved enough and Andrea caught her scent in the air then her heart restarted proving itself a useless time keeper. An itch just inside her nostril threatened to be her final undoing. Her attempts to ignore it or breathe it away had been unsuccessful and her body became more and more rigid as she fought the urge to practically pick her nose in front of the silver headed enigma that kept her rooted to the spot.  
  
“You wish to have lessons.” It was a quiet statement, but it shattered the silence of the room completely. Andrea was thankful for the change and suddenly the itch in her nose was cured. “Lessons are not a contract, but they can prepare you for one.” The glasses revealed deep blue eyes thoughtful in their perusal of the younger woman. Andrea’s stillness seeped into her as she waited. Her lips parted but she did not speak. “Once a week, while you wait for the book. Until your assistant agreement renewal date.” Miranda took a breath. “You will do as instructed. Your position will remain celibate. I will instruct, demonstrate, and expect you to learn. If you violate the lesson rules they will be terminated immediately.” Miranda scooped up the photos into the folder she had brought them down in. Standing over Andrea she looked down on her with an unreadable expression.   
  
‘Gentleness,’ Andrea thought as if she could feel it from the woman without any kind of word. When Miranda did not move but continued to hold her gaze Andrea nodded her acceptance.  
  
The slight nod Miranda returned sealed their agreement somehow. Miranda stepped toward the door with her folder in her hand. As she left she tossed back, “Choose a safeword.”

 

...


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reposting will continue as I have time, but RL smacked me in the face a little and I'm not sure how my time and focus are going to go. Who k nows. Half the time I put out a heads up like that, I have a break through. Whatevs. At least you know it's a complete story and not still trying to be written. lol.

**_Learning Curve. Part 2/4._**  
  
Some things Andrea already knew by virtue of growing up in this society where anyone could enter into a contract with another at any given time. Exceptions might include: a job agreement with a celibacy clause, illegal limits such as age, or a binding love commitment that precluded contract behaviors. It was always someone’s right to say no, but once the contract was entered into it was expected that both parties fulfill their roles. Up front negotiations, short contracts followed by longer ones, and trusting your instincts were the best ways to assure a mutually satisfying experience. In those early discussions Miranda, her mistress, had seemed pleased that despite Andrea’s lack of experience, she still had some knowledge. Going over the basics had never been her forte.  
  
In the beginning Miranda brought work with her. Slowly she began to bring other accessories for their discussions, until the work was abandoned entirely in favor of explanation and demonstration. Still, Andrea’s mind connected it all together in a massive jumble until she could not walk into Miranda’s office without assuming her deathly still position for a lesson or watch Miranda during a run through without thinking of her hands ghost touching her when undressing her or applying restraints or rope. Her body was confused by so much input that had to be rigidly categorized. Occasionally Andrea caught Miranda looking at her from her office, and she could only guess if Miranda had a hard time keeping it all entirely separate as well. Andrea wondered if she looked at her assistant and had to fight the urge to tell her to kneel next to her chair. Miranda had not taken a contract in many years and Andrea wondered if that was one of the reasons why. Of course, she was a master, but even she had to be effected sometimes, right? Why else would such expertise be hidden away?  
  
The stillness required during her lessons helped her while on the job with Miranda. For eight months she had always had to fight the urge to talk or fidget in the town car, the office, or even on the rare elevator ride. Stilling herself during the lessons was difficult, but the reward of Miranda modeling the praise a dominant would give stayed with her each week. Her mistress did not smile outright but let a hint of one appear at the corner of her mouth. Her eyes sparkled with amusement as Andrea visibly conquered back a tremor of fear. The small nod indicating that her behavior was acceptable filled Andrea with a nearly uncontainable joy. However, what she longed for the most, what haunted her in the short hours between a lesson and the dawn, were the lingering touches. Her mistress’ cool demeanor was constructed out of commands given, clothing stripped away, and intense orbs of blue that left no room for less than compliance. That command exterior was belied by her own fingertips as a costume was put on her body, or a length of rope or leather was placed just so against her skin. The iciness of the ice queen was merely another layer in the persona of the woman she called her boss most often but preferred to call mistress.  She wished that someday, the woman would touch her with more than a hint of that warmth Andrea was now certain was deep inside. Andrea had learned to not flinch as her nerves were jolted with the softest teases she could imagine. After a skipped heartbeat Andrea always mastered the control of her lungs and forced them to breathe again. Wondering if it would always feel like this waiting on her master caused Andrea great heartache because she knew no one else could ever make her feel this way.  
  
*** *** ***  
  
Facing the back wall Andrea opened her eyes as wide as she could as if that would open a portal of sight in the back of her head. Really, she was only opening her eyes wider, she wasn’t seeing anything more than usual. When her eyes were dried out and almost hurting, she had to stop and blink a few times to soothe them. Miranda had left the room and the loneliness seemed magnified by the silence surrounding her. She knew that patience was one of her struggles and wondered if Miranda was leaving her alone as an exercise to see how long it would take for her to turn around. Even thinking it was a trap set by her mistress, the urge to look was overwhelming. Until she heard the soft click of her heels return and noises on the little table near her.  
  
Miranda’s eyes feasted on the soft skin of Andrea’s shoulders as she flipped the cardboard of the matchbook back trapping the match against the back. The shake of the girl’s body as she pulled and the match flared to life made the corners of her mouth upturn with mischief. Her submissive was visibly trying to apply her lessons and simply sit still. Holding the flame to the wick she wondered why these lessons seemed to progress quicker than Nigel’s fashion lessons had. ‘Perhaps he was right, he really just wasn’t the girl for the job.’  
  
Warming her palm over the flame Miranda ordered, “Hold your arms out to the sides palms down. Don’t move them.” She stepped to one side of the brunette intending to grasp her wrist with her heated palm, but Andrea’s arm flinched.  
  
Miranda heard Andrea’s shocked gasp for air and let the silence build tension between them. Andrea wrapped her arms around her body and lowered her head. She took a deep breath as Miranda watched the alabaster skin of her back move. Stretching out her arms, but keeping her head down, Andrea murmured, “I apologize, mistress.”  
  
Keeping her voice low and void of venom Miranda chastised her, “You have a safe word for a reason.”  
  
Andrea’s head bobbed, but Miranda waited. “Yes, mistress. I understand.”  
  
Miranda stepped around to the front of Andrea looking her over and assessing her state of readiness. “Do you know what happened?”  
  
Something about her brief encounter with Nigel before the lessons began echoed in Andrea’s mind. She remembered him having her eyes closed and expecting a spanking that never came. He talked with her about the effects a lack of sight could have coupled with the long pause that created expectation between actions. “I-I-I was waiting for you, but then when I knew you had come close I pulled away.” Miranda nodded for her to continue and Andrea tried not to lose herself in those blue eyes that were searching her soul. “I wanted to know what was next, but it also overwhelmed me.”  
  
Miranda looked her up and down seeing that the girl’s breathing was even, her pupils weren’t dilated, and she was able to articulate without a nervous choke. “The interval creates desire, builds anticipation and plays with fear. It is a powerful tool in any situation. This is heightened when combined with surprise. Your body doesn’t know what or when to expect things and your mind tries to anticipate. The thrill can be exhilarating.” Miranda paused.  
  
Shifting in her seat and reclasping her hands together Andrea agreed quietly, “Yes, mistress.”  
  
Stepping close, but not reaching out Miranda reminded her, “Pain is not part of this lesson or our agreement, Andrea.” At her submissive nod, Miranda added, “You will use your safeword?”  
  
The answer was already clear between them, but a verbal affirmation was needed. “Yes, mistress.”  
  
Miranda sucked in a breath of air to hide her sudden pulse of desire. The supplicant way in which Andrea addressed her was intoxicating. She found herself wanting to hear that same tone during the workday when the girl called her first name.  
  
Walking behind Andrea once again Miranda’s mind was filled with an image of Andrea in her bed, waiting to be touched and tickled. The vividness in her mind at once showed this same lesson of trust and surprise but also clearly it showed them in an intimate scene of joy. To burn this thought away Miranda held her hand closer to the flickering fire than before. The pain censors stole her mind’s attention back to the practice room of the present and the lesson at hand. “We have talked about this before. Surprise is a vital element in many types of play bringing a hypersensitivity, adrenaline rush, pleasure, and even laughter to a scene.” Without making a sound, Miranda closed the distance between them. Her hot palm wrapped around Andrea’s right wrist and she smiled as the girl trembled but stayed in position. “You moved when you heard me the first time because you were uncertain and because your hearing was more acute.” Miranda let go of Andrea’s wrist. “At ease.” She said letting Andrea rest her arms.  
  
By the end of the lesson her fingers coated in wax and more than one self-inflicted burn, Miranda wasn’t sure who she was testing anymore—the girl or herself. An unspoken threshold had been crossed in their interactions and she wondered if Nigel had sensed this before he put her up to it or whether he had just thought she needed shaking up. It was a wonder to her how she had missed the slow growing of her attraction for the girl ever since that first day. She didn’t know whether she had missed it because it never occurred to her or because she was blind or because she was just too stubborn. She wasn’t certain what she was going to do about it, but she was certain that if the girl had walked away in Paris that neither of them would ever know. Every challenge she had laid professionally and, in the lessons, Andrea had managed to meet and even exceed expectations. Could it really be that one so inexperienced could be so capable with matters of the heart? Was the learning curve too steep? Would there be too much to lose if she risked her heart again?  
  
*** *** ***  
  
“A-a-apple.” Andrea’s voice trembled as her breath came in short pants. Miranda let Andrea’s leg slide closer to its fellow. She let the rope slide from her hands showing them in the mirror to Andrea. Her pale skin shook as she tried to control her breathing. Arms pulled lightly against the rope already tied to the empty clothing rack. Miranda’s blue eyes looked over her submissive assessing her status. The arms were not actively struggling against the restraints and Andrea had not said anything other than her safeword. Andrea’s other leg had been tied already and her body shifted closer to its comfort point. Warm hands pressed firmly against her hips hugging her body into Miranda’s from behind. Andrea opened her eyes looking in the mirror. A wave of calming blue washed over her as their eyes met over the top of her naked shoulder.   
  
When Andrea’s breath came in slower fluid motions Miranda asked, “Pause or stop?” Her mouth was close to Andrea’s ear, her breath tickling against the lobe and Andrea whimpered as she closed her eyes and swallowed hard. How could she stop? With Miranda’s voice purring into her ear, her hands on her hips, and the look of their bodies pressed together in the mirror? More than that, Andrea knew her mistress would be disappointed. Never yet had Andrea failed her and she didn’t want to start now.  
  
“Pause,” Andrea whispered over the dryness of her throat.  
  
Miranda’s hands were moving again, but she did not bend to tighten the rope at her leg. Instead, keeping her body still close enough to share its heat she began to run her fingers over the rope checking each bend, curve, and knot she had made as she wound it around Andrea’s beautiful body. Watching Miranda filled Andrea with a sense of desire that easily overwhelmed her uncertainty. She found comfort in the fact that Miranda had bound her arms and legs before. It was just the first time she had been standing up and fully visible in the mirror. Being tied to the chair by her arms and legs had been like something out of a movie scene and it was no different than when she was told to sit there without moving. Being tied, she had the freedom to try to move if she wanted to. Like everything in life, she supposed it was a tradeoff. Standing, being tied at all four points and on display for her mistress was a different trade off and for her part the hungry look in Miranda’s eyes was priceless.  
  
After a few more moments of breathing regularly, Andrea relaxed into Miranda’s touch. Her body slid against the woman behind her and she fought the instinct to close her eyes by keeping them focused on Miranda’s reaction in the mirror. Letting her posture straighten once again, Andrea spread her legs a little more than shoulder width. Stepping to the side Miranda bent her knee allowing her slender arm to grasp the rope that had fallen loose on the floor. “All right?” Her words were simple but the questioning inflection made Andrea feel better. This was on her terms. Andrea nodded for her to proceed. She felt glad to have used the safeword when she was uncertain, and she felt secure knowing that Miranda would stop, take a moment, and then continue. Once the long leg was tied, holding the last of her mobility in place, Miranda rose again.  
  
Miranda’s hands were warm as they touched Andrea’s right hand. “Depending on the scene you would be tied like this for the visual, to make flogging easier, to allow you to struggle and fight…” Miranda walked behind her. Her hand touched briefly on her forearm, then her shoulder, and behind her knee—it was like old-fashioned camera flashes in her mind and she wished there was a way to freeze the moment, to keep it with her. Miranda was so gentle when they were together. Firm, strict, all business to be sure—she wasn’t the dragon of Runway for nothing—but underneath it all Andrea felt a tenderness and calmness. The slow build of the lessons had pushed her from day one, and yet it had always remained safe and never left her feeling violated.  
  
The touch on her lower back sent tendrils of warm joy coursing around her body. The slight press and slide of her fingertips was almost too much to bear. Andrea wondered if Miranda knew the intensity of her touch, and that was why she always kept if brief. She thought that like looking at the sun would blind you, perhaps feeling her touch would immolate you from within. Miranda’s body drew close to her own as she continued behind Andrea letting a finger trace the strip of skin between bands of rope along her overly sensitive side. “This position is perhaps more overtly sexual, but teasing, control, denial, punishment or any of a host of other motivators could limit that sexuality.” Miranda’s breath was hot against her shoulder as her breasts scraped their silk fabric against her binding web of rope. Andrea squeezed her hands and then released them, letting her know she was still in control of the scene, and allowing her to revel in the trust she had in Miranda. “In the chair you were closed off at first, but with twisting and commands you saw the potential for sexual touch, yes?”  
  
Andrea fought her body as it begged for a sexual revolution. Perhaps it was good to be tied up given how much she wanted to turn and tackle Miranda to the floor and claim her release. If Andrea thought she knew what to do, she might have struggled harder. As it was she only knew that the muscles between her legs had constricted, her throat had become even drier, and Miranda’s hand was teasingly held against her ass cheek. “If you were naughty, Andrea, your dominant could spank you.” Her eyes instantly shut as Miranda’s hand left her skin. The pulse was loud in her ears and absolutely throbbing at the apex of her legs. Lightly, Miranda’s hand came back to her behind, but it was not a spank. “But you are rarely naughty, hmmm?” Miranda stepped toward her left hand and Andrea whimpered as she opened her eyes. The syllables of Naugh-ty had just become her new favorite word and she wondered just how much more tangled up she could get, which given her currently knotted situation was funny.   
  
Andrea had to cough and swallow to be able to speak, but Miranda’s gaze in the mirror told her she expected a response. “No.” Andrea lowered her head to look away and repeated, “No, mistress.”  
  
Miranda hummed and Andrea wondered if Nigel knew about that response. He sure didn’t mention it all those months ago when he was teaching her how to de-code Miranda. “My good girl.” Her voice lowered and cooed and Andrea wondered if Miranda had meant to say it out loud. In the mirror Miranda looked positively focused on Andrea’s skin as she moved up her arm to the other side of the clothing rack. She checked Andrea’s left hand with her own warm ones.   
  
“Why did you choose ‘apple’?” Miranda was standing in front of her now taking in the flush of Andrea’s skin, the shine of her hair in the bun she had worn to work, and her deep brown eyes that were even more soulful face to face than in the mirror. Miranda’s fingers tingled as she fought the urge to take her brown hair down and pull it to the side leaving her undisputed access to Andrea’s lovely leonine neck.  
  
“Everything begins with apple in a way. It is one of the first words, first foods, and it has two syllables. When something goes wrong or needs checking you go back to the beginning.” Andy shrugged as well as she could in the restraints. Then as Miranda hardened her gaze at the gesture she added, “Given the usage of ‘safeword’ to mean stop or pause, to return to a safe place, like the beginning, I thought it fit.”  
  
Miranda cocked an eyebrow at Andrea not expecting her answer. ‘Original sin,’ she thought as she looked the beautiful woman over from bare feet up along slender thighs crowned with a neatly trimmed triangle of brown hair, and then over her torso and chest that rose and fell in small movements jiggling her breasts slightly as she breathed. “Vertical bondage must be limited because of circulation issues. It is the dominant’s responsibility to check your hands.” Another look over Andrea’s taut nipples and then Miranda fell head long into Andrea’s large brown eyes. They were so open and attentive. Something that looked a lot like want and desire for her seemed to hover in them just below the surface. Shaking her head to disconnect the image of an apple with the rosy hue of Andrea’s nipples, Miranda stepped forward and to the right. Her hands warmed against Andrea’s palm and fingers once again.  
  
Untying the bottom rope Miranda took her time undoing all of the knots and curves she had put around the girl’s body. Without being told, Andrea waited patiently as Miranda slowly… Andrea shook her head trying to correct her mind, Miranda wasn’t undressing her, and yet the intimacy she felt was similar. Her body sang louder than when she took her own clothes off under Miranda’s instruction. Andrea rationalized that the rope held more heat than she had realized and that her body was left cool in the practice room. Once the pieces of rope were coiled loosely around her arm, Miranda looked again into Andrea’s eyes. “The lesson has ended.”  
  
Eager to begin stretching out her body and smoothing away sensations that had been building for an hour or more Andrea lowered her head and agreed, “Yes, mistress.” Her muscles had recovered quickly and as she stretched she eyed the blue rope on Miranda’s arm and looked up into the matching blue eyes. Hugging herself to go over the places that the rope had been against her skin, Andrea inadvertently squeezed her breasts together and pushed them up like cleavage on a platter for Miranda’s eyes to feast on.  
  
‘Apple.’ Miranda had a hard time controlling the snort of laughter that accompanied her arousal at seeing such a delicious display. ‘Apple of my eye,’ her brain taunted and with that Miranda stalked from the room.  
  
Gathering her clothes and slipping back into them, Andrea couldn’t help but think of the real reason she had chosen her safeword; ‘Apple for the teacher.’ With a sly smirk she turned off the practice room light and let the door lock click behind her.  
  
*** *** ***  
  
The mostly empty practice room held a certain kind of peace that the rest of Runway did not. That didn’t lessen the speed of her heart rate or the pace of her thoughts, but it did provide a constant reminder of purpose. She was here to learn from a legendary master in both work pursuits and sexual ones. Occasionally she pondered where love was supposed to fit into the mix, but Nigel had only cautioned her about one topic: love. So, she always took that question to the back of her mind where she put it in the very bottom of a locking file cabinet in her brain. She tried hard not to think of how the idea reappeared time and again escaping from its secure placement. For the time being it was enough to cart it away each time and re-focus on Miranda’s voice or the silence between them.  
  
Andrea sat naked on the chair her ankles crossed, hands joined in her lap, hair tied up in a high ponytail by a burgundy ribbon, and her lips to match. ‘It was not sexual,’ she had to remind herself. At first being naked in Miranda’s presence had been unnerving, but Miranda had been gentle—requiring only a slow stripping down over the course of her lessons until several weeks in Andrea was seated bare, her posture at attention and answering questions. She had the feeling that somehow their term had come to an end and the final exam was being given. The thought saddened her as she watched Miranda regarding her in between questions. She had come to understand her job in the last year and excel at it. Emily had been dismayed until her rotation came up and Miranda had allowed her to take a contract away from Runway.   
  
Her work time focused on Miranda and with these lessons her personal time focused on the beautiful silver haired mistress as well. She still had three weeks for her rotation, but the new girl was taking to her duties quite successfully and Andrea increasingly had the sense that her time at Runway was running out. The lessons had proved intense and she knew they would be invaluable, but more than that she wanted to continue her time with Miranda. If continuing as her celibate assistant was the only way to stay in her mistress’ presence, then she would gladly extend her position.  
  
Andrea smiled as she realized that if this was a final exam, then she was passing with flying colors. Every question Miranda had put to her regarding their lessons on formalities between dominant and submissive, contract language, practices, and even accessories Andrea had been able to answer.  
  
The continued scrutiny of blue eyes over her body filled her with the desire to move, to act, but she did not know what she would do. She had never had these experiences that they talked about, and she certainly did not know how to say what was on her mind or what filled her body. For all of her new knowledge, she knew only that her desire to hold Miranda had become the only clear thing in her mind. All the rest of it was details: ones that seemed irrelevant against the force of her desire. Instead, as Miranda had taught her—she sat patiently waiting for her mistress to speak again. Of all the lessons this had been the hardest—patience. She remembered more than one occasion where Miranda had brought work down to the small room and simply required Andrea to exercise patience. Standing, sitting, kneeling for long periods of time as she slowly took off garment after garment and Miranda either ignored her in favor of the work or talked to her about expectations of future masters when the time came.  
  
Andrea had to breathe deep and focus on her silence when talk of future masters had come up. She only ever wanted Miranda to be her mistress, but that would not be allowed. Andrea knew that more than discussing love, speaking her true desire would be unmentionable. The dynamic would change and the lessons, indeed her employment, might be ended. She could not risk that so close to the end of her assistant’s agreement, not when there was still a chance of being renewed.  
  
Miranda stood in front of her now looking her over with blue eyes filled with something that Andrea could only call longing, even if she wasn’t supposed to think that. Holding a beautiful blue coil of bondage rope, Miranda asked her, “What is this for?” Andrea’s eyes looked at the bondage rope that she had identified earlier. She longed for Miranda to wrap its length around her body creating a web because it would mean that Miranda’s fingertips would ghost along her skin everywhere but where she truly wanted them.   
  
Her brown eyes filled with questions that she did not verbalize, nor did she try to hide. Miranda was not repeating her questions; this was somehow different. “Bondage is different for each person. Giving up control, not being able to move, and struggling all can be motivations to use ropes, restraints, and other forms of bondage.” Andrea started with the textbook answer as she continued to watch Miranda’s blue eyes. The intensity between them was palpable, but Andrea knew an answer beyond the textbook was wanted. Breathing deeply, she felt something more inside herself reach out to this powerful woman in front of her, though her body held its still position. “At its simplest form no accessories are needed, only a command or request can signal bondage.” Something flashed in Miranda’s eyes and Andrea swallowed as she willed her mind to continue. “Trust.” Andrea’s mouth opened to elaborate, but the words died in her throat as Miranda closed her eyes visibly holding onto her control. ‘Aroused,’ her mind thought loudly, also stilling after only one word. Even her mind, in this situation, did not dare to finish the thought. Miranda Priestly, her boss, her mistress was visibly aroused by the concept of Andrea Sachs sitting naked at her mercy talking about trust.  
  
Andrea stood, the chair moving slightly against the backs of her calves as it shifted against the smooth floor. She did not move forward and kept her hands clasped in front of her. She tilted her head to the side as she regarded Miranda’s fingers gripping the rope and her eyelids held tight as she breathed in and out slowly. Miranda’s tension filled pose caused an overwhelming sense of longing to well up within Andrea. “Trust, like power, has many levels.” Andrea added as she let her eyes really take in the woman standing before her. Her chest was the only indication of movement as it rose and fell under its silky constraints, though Andrea knew her heart rate had increased. “Like power, trust is given back and forth between individuals in any context for a variety of reasons. Often it is the unspoken term of a contract, or the hallmark of love.”  
  
At the use of the L-Word Miranda’s eyes opened and the desire that Andrea had identified earlier while clearly present was mixed with other things. ‘Anger and fear,’ Andrea thought to herself in wonder. A different lesson had been learned tonight, one that she was not sure Miranda had intended to teach her. While Miranda gave the orders and Andrea had followed them, she realized that they were only possible because of her trust and gift of power to Miranda. Connecting that with all talks of contracts and her own thoughts of love, Andrea realized that her position held just as much power and trust as Miranda’s did. The setting, under the guise of a lesson, and her position, defined as celibate, were the only limiting factors and they did not preclude this balance of trust and power. This was the same balance that had Miranda Priestly physically restraining herself, modulating her breathing, pinning her with a blue-eyed glare that begged her to stay silent, while she herself was reduced to biting back her thoughts. Andrea’s body surged with arousal, letting it fully take over her for once and mingle with the trust she knew Miranda had given her, even if she would never say so, or would try to take it back in the next instant.  
  
Keeping her hands clasped in front of her Andrea stepped forward into Miranda’s personal space.   
  
Miranda’s retreating step brought her closer to the wall and sent a wave of desire through her body.  
  
Shaking slightly Andrea stepped forward again as Miranda stepped back into the wall.  
  
“I trust you.” Andrea said as she brought her hands up and placed them on the wall on either side of Miranda’s head.  
  
Their bodies did not touch, but each felt the heat of the other, the powerful draw of their closeness, and the dryness in their throats as so much more was said with their eyes than could be said in the moment with their mouths. The lesson agreement had been incredibly specific in addition to Andrea’s position as a celibate. Only now did Andrea question why Miranda had been so detailed. Over the course of the lessons they had discussed contracts that were as simple as a few hours, a safeword, three activity specifications, and sealed with a kiss. Why had Miranda made an arrangement for lessons so drawn out and spectacularly intricate? Why had Nigel told her not to ever mention matters of love?  
  
The answer came with a sudden clarity just as Andrea recognized the emotion now clear in Miranda’s eyes: vulnerability. Andrea swallowed as she stared into Miranda’s blue eyes feeling that she was the naked one backed against the wall. It made her heart hurt to realize the cages that Miranda must have built around herself all these years. Ornate and detailed to distract with their beauty they still held the same purpose to lock away Miranda’s heart and tenderness where no one would dare to look. By stripping herself down to her skin, Andrea had been given the view back into the heart of her mistress.  
  
Tenderness filled her heart to overflowing and Andrea pulled her hands down as she took a half step back and clasped her hands in front of her naked body once again. Holding her eyes on Miranda’s, she let a small smile play on her lips crinkling the edges of her eyes as she said softly again, “I trust you, Miranda.” The added Miranda, instead of mistress caused the older woman’s breath to catch in her throat and held her up against the wall as if Andrea was holding her there.  
  
Stepping back again until she felt the chair behind her legs, Andrea nodded slightly and sat down fighting the urge to slump against the back sullenly. She knew that Miranda would signal the end of the lesson. Miranda continued to watch her as she tried to categorize all of her emotions, place them in the right places, and control desires outside of her arrangement of lessons with Andrea. She had asked a question and got so much more of an answer than she had expected. Even as she fought herself she could not deny that it wasn’t what she wanted. “The lesson has ended.” Her voice was low and raspy, giving away how affected she was by their exchange, but she could do nothing to hide it. ‘Not after everything she has seen in my eyes.’ She thought to herself anyway as she turned the rope over in her hands feeling as if it had somehow betrayed her.  
  
Breaking their gaze Andrea lowered her eyes to her knees. “Yes, Mistress,” She murmured her voice low and fraught with emotion she no longer wanted to hide. Emotions that Miranda had somehow given her permission to finally feel. She felt lost as Miranda lay the rope down on the small table and exited the room. The quiet click of the door signaled to her more than that, Miranda was gone. Her scent lingered in the air, the accessories of their lesson littered the room, but more than that Miranda was everywhere in her mind and her body. Touch between them was rare and never intimate, but Andrea knew there was a gentleness and a passion to it.  
  
Slowly she rose and slipped her clothes back on. No one had ever touched her body that way. Nigel had talked with her about spanking, even went so far as to simulate it by clapping his hands, but after weeks with the ghost touches of Miranda on her skin she did not count that. Besides time spent with him had not left her breathless and wanting more.   
  
More of what she did not know. She only knew that the folds between her legs were sticky with desire after her time with Miranda, and that her nipples throbbed against her bra after being naked for so long.  
  
They had never discussed intimate touch. Only the language used for contracts: the expectations of a dominant on a submissive. The rules and tools of various activities that Andrea knew led to pleasure, but that they never spoke of.   
  
Andrea did not dare to touch herself, afraid that it would fan the fires of her desire out of control and immolate her.  
  
She knew only that she wanted it to be Miranda to touch her for the first time, to take her, and to teach her all the other lessons that fit in between the ones she had been given. After tonight’s lesson she thought Miranda wanted that as well.  
  
*** *** ***   
  
Patience, stillness, and obedience had been lessons learned over their time together. A cancelled lesson when Miranda had to get to her daughter was the perfect time to practice. Andrea fought back tears of disappointment as she realized that there was only one lesson remaining and then a precious week until her agreement would run out. She had not made any other arrangement, as she was loath to admit to herself that her time with Miranda was coming to an end. Small comfort came in the echo of Emily’s voice saying, ‘Survive for a year and you can go anywhere.’  
  
Andrea waited until the end of the day and at her scheduled appointment time she went down to the empty practice rooms. Instead of sitting in her customary chair Andrea leaned against the table and looked at it. She took some solace from the fact that Miranda had stopped by her desk on the way out to apologize. Andrea had known as soon as the school called that Miranda would be going home the moment she could get away. Cassidy coming down with the flu certainly took precedence. It was just bad timing as far as Andrea was concerned.  
  
Looking at the chair she tried to see herself sitting in it. She wondered what Miranda really saw as she looked at her. At first it had seemed as though she only wanted to toy with her, but as weeks went by she could tell that Miranda had focused on the lessons. Nigel had said that Miranda had not given lessons since the twins were born. Perhaps she was a little rusty. He had smiled. “Oh, no. When she hands you your ass on the Runway floor, you know. That woman is always ready to mark what’s hers or bend someone back to where they belong.” Andrea smiled remembering her unfortunate ass handing when she wore that damn cerulean sweater. Nigel was right. There had to be something else holding Miranda back then.  
  
Thinking back to their previous lesson Andrea saw herself breaking the rules of their interaction. She had stood when told to be seated; approached when she should have been scolded; and almost touched her mistress, which would have been grounds for dismissal. Yet Miranda had not taken any action. The topic of trust related to balance and power had been arousing to Miranda and it had opened her up in a way that shocked Andrea. She had pushed the teeter-totter of their relationship and felt giddy with the knowledge of what she could do and that Miranda wanted it with her. Why else had she been so strict when writing their lesson agreement?   
  
Andrea looked again at the chair that would remain empty for the evening. She imagined Miranda sitting down primly her legs crossed at the knee wearing black trousers and those red heels that made Andrea trip every time she had to walk behind her. The red buttons of her blouse would reflect the glare of the artificial light above them. In her mind’s eye Andrea kept her voice low and her fingers didn’t tremble as she unbuttoned each of those shiny red buttons. The blouse undone and sliding open to reveal Miranda’s lace covered breasts in her mind made Andrea unconsciously press her hand against her own breast. The knowledge of her inexperience poured over her like a bucket of ice water. In her mind she would lock eyes with Miranda and root herself in the gentleness that she had always believed was there. “Please.” Andrea whispered aloud in the empty practice room. Her soft plea broke the spell of her imagination, but she felt stronger—somehow it was like a vision of her future, and Miranda’s. Unlike the haze and wonder of a dream, her certainty filled her with the promise of the future she longed for, even if she lacked the words to describe it.

 

 

...


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Back in town. Hope you enjoy.

**_Learning Curve. Part 3/4_**  
  
The mirror mocked her nervousness to keep breathing at a rate that would avoid the unfortunate event of passing out while she paced. As she paced, her mind ran through the eight steps she had learned the night before from the internet and practiced on her giant teddy bear. As the seconds ticked by and Miranda had not appeared Andrea began to mime the slow gestures Miranda had used on her so many times. Her arms reached out and up to lay the rope around Miranda’s neck like putting a tie on someone’s collar. She let her fingers trail slowly down the rope to assure it was even on both sides. Focusing on the imagined rope between her fingers she extended the time and built anticipation just as Miranda had done to her. Above the breasts she knotted the rope together in an easy overhand knot. She imagined Miranda’s gasp as her fingers brushed so close to her fluttering heart. Letting the back of her fingers slide down the skin between Miranda’s breasts Andrea knew she would not be able to keep her eyes on Miranda’s even though she wanted to see the changing clouds of emotion in her blue orbs. Andrea knew that she would be watching the delicate skin of Miranda’s chest as her breathing made it rise and fall. Her eyes would devour the image of Miranda’s nipples hardening in the cool air of the room or perhaps even because of the underlying implication that Andrea was in charge this time and that she might touch her.  
  
Sex was not in their agreement, but touching had never been forbidden outright. As she waited Andrea wondered how far she would be allowed to push the boundaries.  
  
Miranda was not late, but Andrea’s earliness made it seem so. Focusing on what she wanted to do to Miranda calmed her, much like she had always heard yoga or tai chi did for others. A small smile formed at the corners of her mouth, but Andrea would not chase that path of reasoning now. Instead, in her mind, she trailed further down Miranda’s body just above her bellybutton allowing her fingers to ghost touch Miranda’s skin and hoping that it would send pulsations of hot desire throughout her body like Miranda’s touch always did to Andrea. The third knot tied, she would meet Miranda’s eyes and with a gentle touch on her inner thigh tell her to spread her legs. This was the touch that always tested Andrea’s utmost control to not squeal in delight. Miranda always pressed all four fingers against her inner thigh and their heat sank into Andrea’s flesh like hot coffee soaking into fabric and warming the skin below. Andrea would lose the possibility for direct eye contact as she passed the rope under the silver triangle of hair between Miranda’s legs and into her other hand.  
  
Andrea would step to the side and around Miranda’s back to where she could pull the rope up and through the loop just at the base of Miranda’s neck. She would pull tight enough for Miranda to feel that gentle pressure almost where she wanted it, but not enough to hurt her. Andrea wondered if she would be able to resist kissing the skin above the rope and below Miranda’s hairline. The beautiful blue of the rope contrasted with the silver of her hair. Even though it was only in her mind’s eye, Andrea felt her tongue reaching out to wet her own lips as she contemplated the visual feast before her.  
  
Gathering her courage, Andrea would step in front of Miranda looking into her eyes. She wondered if her touch and their image in the mirror would be affecting her the way it always did when Miranda was leading this exercise. Leaning close so that her breath was against Miranda’s throat Andrea would reach around her body to take the ropes on either side. She would tuck the right side under her arm while she found the end of the left, which would go through the hole made by the knots above and below Miranda’s breasts. She would repeat this with the right all the while looking over Miranda’s body in a slow perusal of her skin, her reactions, and her submission. Andrea knew she was already wet, but that couldn’t be helped. Nothing else would keep her calm while she waited for Miranda. Wrapping herself around the beautiful woman, Andrea would tuck the ends of the rope around the back and weave them into the front creating a cage of rope all the way around Miranda’s breasts. Andrea wondered if Miranda’s nipples would ache to be touched at this point, as her fingers brushed up against the sensitive underside of her breasts, but never against the throbbing hard nubs of her nipples.  
  
The click of heels drew Andrea up just short of her full visual simulation. Instead of sitting in her usual chair, she stood at attention with her arms tucked behind her back. Timing was crucial and she hoped that she would be able to pull off a practical application of her mind’s theoretical musings. She had not come this far in life or at Runway by being faint of heart so her mind told her heart to charge calmly out into battle—because this would be worth it. Miranda entered the room faltering as her eyes took in Andrea’s posture and placement. She stepped all the way into the room and let the door click shut behind her. Tilting her head toward the girl and the chair Miranda acknowledged her, “Andrea.” Her mouth opened to say her usual phrase to begin the lesson, then her lips closed again as Andrea approached.  
  
“Before we begin…” Andrea lowered her eyes and stepped forward hoping to lure Miranda’s attention to her demure posture, plunging neckline, and band of leg peeking out from over the tops of her boots but under her short skirt. She had changed from her earlier work clothes when she went to get the rope. Miranda had many opportunities to memorize every contour of her skin, but perhaps like models for a lingerie shoot she had been able to look without looking. Andrea hoped as she stepped into Miranda’s personal space that she had drawn Miranda’s attention to the whole woman that she had become. The flailing fashion disaster of a girl straight from college had been stripped in more than one way and what remained now was a strong woman worthy of teetering with her on the balance beam of trust and power. A woman who could not only make her happy but was happy with her.  
  
Miranda gasped in surprise although her stubbornness rooted her in place. So many had challenged her for the spot at the top that she had become unyielding. As the heat of Andrea’s body blended with her own she wondered where her flexibility had gone and what had been left in its stead.  
  
Andrea looked into Miranda’s blue eyes and shied away immediately. She could not get lost in their pull on her heart or like a moth to a flame she would lose herself in the brilliance. Her words came out in a rush, the heat of her breath against Miranda’s skin, “When I leave you, Miranda, there may come a time when I will have to be or play the master.” Andrea could tell that Miranda had taken in a sudden breath. The movement of the older woman’s body so close to hers sent her heart into overdrive. “I’m scared to do this with anyone but you.” Drawing in Miranda’s scent for courage Andrea added, “Will you allow me this final lesson?” Andrea paused and licked her lips. “I trust you, Miranda.” Raising her brown eyes slowly, Andrea looked into the bluest eyes she had ever seen. “Please.” She whispered realizing at last how close their lips were.  
  
Long seconds stretched between them an infinite line of emotions playing between them and shining in their eyes.  
  
The pulse throbbed once, twice, three times in Miranda’s ears as it reverberated in the confines of her mind like the crack of a shotgun. She flinched from the intensity of her heart’s screams in her ears, but she did not break eye contact. Andrea’s breath raggedly shook her chest as she struggled for control inside her skin. Her lower lip barely held steady as it dropped slightly open and she waited for the refusal she could see forming in Miranda’s eyes. The potential of it broke her and spreading wings of desperation, she stepped forward once more placing her hand over Miranda’s heart. “Do you not trust me?” Her words carried their strength despite the fracture of her voice.  
  
Anger balled Miranda’s fingers into a fist; however, it was no match for the floodwaters of her heart breaking open and crashing through her body announcing want, desire, need, passion, and most all trust. Her fingers relaxed and she reached up covering Andrea’s hand with her own. She wondered when the girl had become a woman and when that woman had become her heart’s only desire—a hope that despite terrible odds and shackled by the past was even now spreading its wings for another first and exhilarating flight.  
  
“I trust you, Andrea.” The words snuck past her mouth before her mind could raise the shields of her defenses locking them in. A diversionary course could have been laid, but her heart had quite clearly leaped at the chance to make a change. Miranda lowered Andrea’s hand entwining their fingers. Miranda swallowed as she looked down at their joined fingers and swallowed back her apprehension as she realized she truly did trust her.  
  
Dipping her eyes down to look at their hands hanging between them Andrea gave a shy smile to Miranda as she looked up into calmer blue eyes. She wished to memorize that look as she thought it was the closest to love she had ever seen on her beautiful face.  
  
Letting Andrea’s hand go Miranda stepped back, “Well then, a last lesson it is.” She smoothed her sides down with overheated palms. “You must negotiate a contract with your submissive then, Andrea.” Miranda said with her ‘I’m giving you an impossible task’ smile that was so familiar to Andrea upstairs in the see-through halls of Runway. Andrea’s eyes widened as she caught that look and realized that she had asked and received so she better have wanted it. “I suggest a short contract.” Miranda said as she dipped her head in a flirtatious smile that promised magnificent rewards.  
  
Excitement joined anxiety in her veins as she flashed a predatory look over Miranda’s body. “Miranda could I tempt you into a short-term contract?” Perhaps not as suave as a mysterious invitation on her desk afterhours, but it wasn’t like she had time to prepare or that either of them didn’t know what was coming. “Just until the normal lesson time ends?” She added making sure to cover the initial component of any contract.  
  
“Yes.” Miranda’s quick reply revealed just as much unbridled energy as Andrea’s invitation.  
  
A kiss was the traditional symbol of agreement, but Andrea was reluctant. It was a fake contract between them, and yet their relationship had changed in the last several minutes. Andrea supposed it was changing the entire time since her first day at Runway, but subtle changes that took time were not as startling as ones that took place in a matter of minutes before your eyes. Miranda tilted her head slightly in question and pouted her lips. Andrea stepped forward and pressed her upper body and lips against Miranda’s. She let her lips press fully into Miranda’s soft lips as her head turned sliding the contact between them until her lips lightly smacked away from Miranda’s her tongue slipping forward against Miranda’s already opening lips and tongue. Pulling away quickly she opened her eyes to look at Miranda’s. The passion threatened to consume her as she watched Miranda slowly open her eyes and wait for her to speak.  
  
“What’s your usual safeword?” Andrea knew this safeguard must be established before continuing.  
  
Miranda sucked in a breath of air as old safewords and situations flipped through her mind. None of them seemed right to use and suddenly Andrea’s words were in her mind, ‘Given the usage of ‘safeword’ to mean stop or pause, to return to a safe place, like the beginning…’ Looking at her new mistress and feeling the pull of limitless possibilities before her, Miranda swept all of her past away wanting to begin anew in every way with Andrea. Lowering her head Miranda looked down at the pointy toes of her shoes. “May I use yours, mistress?”   
  
Andrea couldn’t help the gasp when she heard Miranda’s request. The smoldering look in Miranda’s eyes as she kept her head down, but raised her eyes was too much for her to bear.  
  
In her silence, Miranda offered an explanation. “A beginning for both of us.” She murmured.  
  
“Yes.” Andrea answered on a puff of air as her lungs clenched with her heart around the word.  
  
Miranda raised her face to look fully into Andrea’s eyes and then said clearly, “My safeword is apple.”  
  
Turning to the table Andrea picked up the rope and pulled Miranda closer to the chair. Her willing steps excited Andrea just as much as those she usually took to follow Miranda. “Strip for me.” Andrea’s tone was calm and gentle, but she did not have the luxury of time that Miranda had to build up to this activity. Besides Andrea’s inexperience was likely the sole motivator for that slow build up anyway.  
  
Miranda’s surprise here in this room and situation warmed Andrea even more than the look she received after the great Harry Potter retrieval incident. Andrea hoped that she would have the chance to continue to surprise Miranda. Saying nothing but smirking devilishly Miranda unbuttoned her blouse slowly pulling it out of the top of her trousers. She kept eye contact as her fingers deftly undid her belt and unbuttoned her trousers unzipping them. In seconds she had slid the shirt to the floor along with her other clothes. Initially she had stepped away from her clothes still in her heels and stockings and Andrea’s stomach flip flopped. Not trusting her command voice Andrea stilled Miranda’s hands on her thigh as she reached for the top of the thigh high clinging tightly to her leg. “Leave those,” she croaked.  
  
Standing up Miranda automatically assumed the pose of a model waiting for instructions and the thought of her on the catwalk took Andrea’s breath away. Shaking her head to organize her muddled thoughts she caught another of Miranda’s power smirks and knew she better finish laying the terms before losing herself completely. Perhaps tonight she would give in and touch herself. The thought steadied her to get through the task at hand. Holding the blue rope up Andrea said, “I want to tie you.” Leaning forward against Miranda’s naked body Andrea relished the feel of her hot skin against the silk of her blouse. Her mouth nearly pressed against Miranda’s cheek she added, “I want to tease you.” ‘And then I want to fuck you,’ The words were left unsaid for the third part of the contract; however, the idea was clear in both of their minds. Three-part contracts were the form that Miranda had taught to Andrea and made her practice and recite. Generally, a contract always included sexual release for one or both parties. Just as the kiss to seal the contract was outside the terms of their pre-existing agreements this last part would remain out of bounds. Hope for the next time sprung up renewed within both of their minds.  
  
“Yes.” Miranda groaned, “Yes, yes.” Their eyes caught the third yes sinking in and cementing the unspoken promise of another time where that commitment could be fulfilled.  
  
Pointing to the angled flat nail in the wall and the shiny metallic safety shears Andrea finished with the formalities. “Scissors are there and your safeword is apple.” Miranda’s tiny smile of approval and nod of acceptance signaled the true beginning for them. “Face the mirror.” Andrea said before stepping in front of her former mistress.   
  
Miranda was unsettled by the practiced movements of Andrea’s hands as she looped the rope around the back of her neck, trailed her fingers down her skin as she tied the three starting knots of the initial shibari tie and then knelt in order to pass the rope to herself behind Miranda for the up the spine link to the rope resting lightly against her hairline. Miranda knew this display was for her enjoyment as she watched Andrea’s tantalizingly slow touches over her body and everywhere the rope touched. Her skin was on fire from the touches and the image of a fully clothed Andrea kneeling in front of her roped body was nearly enough to short circuit her neurons. Andrea’s dark brown hair tickled against her legs and Miranda could feel her hot breath against her inner thigh agonizingly close to her trimmed triangle of silver. When the pads of Andrea’s fingers pressed against her upper thigh Miranda had to tear her eyes away from the image of Andrea’s body between her stocking-clad legs.  
  
The fingers were a command, but the eyes were a plea. Miranda spread her legs wider to allow Andrea to pass the rope under her. As Andrea wrapped her arm around Miranda’s leg she fought the urge to raise her leg over Andrea’s shoulder pinning her so close to her sex and anchoring her with that blue heel she had worn to work. The image made her shudder and she lost the chance to enact her thought as Andrea stood and moved behind her. Miranda could tell she had found the ends of the rope when delicate fingers slipped under the rope against her sensitive neck and her other hand began slipping the rope through the loop protected by her fingers. Miranda held still with her eyes riveted to the mirror where she could see the total focus of dark eyes watching her task and Miranda’s skin exposed before her. The hunger in her eyes called out a long dormant hunger in Miranda’s core and her muscles clenched as she watched the tip of Andrea’s pink tongue slip out between her lips to moisten them.  
  
When every centimeter of rope was knotted, twisted, and tucked Andrea stood behind Miranda letting her hands rest on Miranda’s hips and her body linger close against her. Instinctively Miranda leaned back into Andrea’s heat, her ass pressed against Andrea’s core and the rope slipping against her folds slightly as she moved. Andrea’s voice was the only thing keeping her from closing her eyes, rolling her head back against Andrea’s shoulder in ecstasy, and continuing the slow thrusting of her hips.  
  
She was only allowed seconds of this freedom; however, as Andrea’s hands firmed against her hips stopping her motion and her voice was stern as Andrea’s mouth breathed against her neck. “Do you know what you have done to me? Every time you would strip me bare? To look at myself, to look at you, watch us in this mirror or in my mind’s eye—did you know what your ghost touch was awakening in me?” Andrea’s brown eyes in the mirror raked over her body as if her fingernails had scored against her skin and Miranda felt her sex dripping with desire. “Slowly you wound me up and tied me down.” Andrea’s voice held a power that it never had before and Miranda delighted in this new strength revealed.  
  
Reaching her right arm under Miranda’s arm pressed Andrea’s body closer to Miranda’s. Her forearm lay flush against the skin between her breasts tightening her nipples more than ever before. Andrea’s words played against her skin like open mouthed kisses that Miranda knew would not come tonight. Andrea’s fingers stroked up the rope as far as she could reach and then trailed slowly down teasing at each knot down her center. “My body hungered for you with an appetite I did not, no, do not understand.” Her fingers followed the rope down between her legs and Miranda held her breath in anticipation of Andrea’s touch on her sex. Miranda’s hips bucked slightly and she bit her lip scolding herself for her lack of control. “Do you want me to touch you, Miranda?” Bending her fingers Andrea flicked her fingertip across the rope like strumming a guitar and the vibrations tickled down to Miranda’s core rendering a whimper from her lips so high above. “Tsk. Tsk. Tsk.” Pulling her body away a half step she rested her hands firmly on Miranda’s hips again. “You should know better than that, Miranda.” Anger flashed through Miranda then questioning why she had ever agreed to this position with Andrea knowing as she did the dangerous levels of pent up arousal, desire, feelings. Andrea followed the lowest ropes along her sensitive sides until she reached the back twists. “I said I would tie you and tease you.” This time the puff of air on the letter ‘t’ was a gentle breeze against the delicate hair on the back of her neck. On both sides Andrea’s fingers were sliding along the middle rope under her breasts tingling nerve endings there into a fine frenzy. Her fingers stayed against the rope but the accidental touch of her palms and forearms against Miranda’s nipples caused them both to gasp. Then her fingers were following the rope above her breasts and back to her spine and up to where her mouth was ghost kissing her.  
  
“My, my, you are gorgeous.” Andrea said as she stepped away and walked in a slow circle around the woman who struggled to hold her pose after so long in charge. “Why didn’t you ever have me leave my stockings on, Miranda? Hmmm?” Andrea stood to the side of Miranda so she could still look in the mirror and she leant down to finger along the top of Miranda’s stocking at once on the hot flesh of Miranda’s thigh and then sliding against the nylon rough under her skin.  
  
Andrea followed Miranda’s eyes as she eagerly watched her hand stroking against her. Miranda’s silence pleased her. It seemed to come naturally and she enjoyed the switch of power between them. Feeling the vulnerability of Miranda’s submission did nothing to lessen the power that she felt Miranda had over her. In fact, she felt a pressure to not disappoint her mistress that was as pleasant in her body as the desire to please her when she was the submissive. Trailing one fingertip slowly up Miranda’s thigh Andrea asked her in a tone that required an answer, “What do you see?”  
  
“My body is displayed before you.” Miranda began simply still awed by the strength Andrea was showing. “You have awakened my body using my coveted shibari.” Flicking her eyes to Andrea’s and then back to the mirror, “My body is showing signs of arousal from the flush of my skin, the extreme tautness of my nipples, and the way my breasts jiggle slightly as I breathe.”   
  
Andrea rewarded this answer by letting her finger slide all the way up to Miranda’s sex where she carefully followed the crease of her upper leg to her far hip and then back down to the coarser hairs teased by the rope. Allowing her finger to slip back and forth across the diameter of the rope a few times Andrea asked, “What else do you see?”  
  
Miranda looked in the mirror once again taking in the image of her body covered only in rope and thin thigh highs atop tall blue stilettos. “I feel your eyes on every part of my body.”   
  
Andrea removed her fingers from the rope causing a flash of anger to storm across Miranda’s eyes. “I asked what you see, Miranda.” The tone was a clear scolding and Miranda found herself hoping for the heated smack of Andrea’s hand across the flesh of her outer thigh. In fact, in that instant she craved it. Miranda had to look into Andrea’s eyes instead of the mirror and it was almost too much for her to stay still. Andrea rested her hand against Miranda’s thigh and she bit her lip waiting for the slap against her skin. Miranda closed her eyes anticipating the delicious sting, but when it did not come she opened them again to see a smirk on Andrea’s mouth. “What else do you see, Miranda?” The brunette prompted even as Miranda considered a different kind of slap to cure the smirk.  
  
Andrea stood to the side looking at Miranda’s body and checking the ties and bends of the rope against her skin. ‘Just as she was taught,’ Miranda realized proudly. Looking again she was surprised by Andrea’s eyes on her skin. Desire was clear, but adoration was winning the race by a long shot. “You are worshiping me.” Miranda realized in a whisper.  
  
“Yes, I am.” Andrea’s voice was calm and confident in its declaration as she stepped directly in front of Miranda. “I am worshiping you.” The delicious lilt of the last word implied that while they were looking with their eyes and seeing each other’s body, that the worship was of something else altogether—something inside the woman hidden in her heart perhaps. The way Andrea’s eyes had covered her body so thoroughly she wouldn’t be surprised if the woman could see inside her very soul. The thought was simply breath taking. Andrea rested her hands firmly against Miranda’s shoulders and then slid them down her body as she lowered herself with a thud to her knees. “I am worshiping you.” The words were whispered only millimeters from her sex, while her hands burned into Miranda’s hips, and Andrea’s eyes looked up and deeply into her own.   
  
The embrace between them in that instant was magnificent and so unbelievably tangible. Miranda looked down with worshiping eyes on her protégé who had touched her so thoroughly despite not touching her at all, and without ever having been held this way before. Her mind spun for words diving head long into cliché: astonished, overwhelmed, stunned… She thought her heart might break over the intensity of it.  
  
Andrea broke eye contact to look at the body at her eye level. Holding Miranda with firm fingers Andrea leaned forward the miniscule distance between them and kissed Miranda’s thigh very close to her sex. Just like the kiss to her lips that sealed the contract Miranda felt the press of Andrea’s lips sliding as her head turned and then a slight whimper as the contact broke and Andrea turned her head the other way to kiss again this time her tongue tasting the skin as she went. It was just as brief as the kiss before but this time Andrea held her face against the skin so that the words vibrated up Miranda’s core. “I’m also teasing you.” Andrea smiled wickedly against her skin before placing a quick peck and rising to her feet.  
  
The jumble of everything between them froze Miranda to the spot causing a rare mixture of feelings inside. She found that underneath her immediate frustration and twinge of anger, she was happy—with Andrea, with their play, and with her decision to trust. Fingers busy against her skin brought Miranda back to the continuing scene between them. Realization that Andrea was untying the knots and slowly unwrapping her body brought a new emotion between them: sadness. One look in Andrea’s eyes and she knew it was a shared emotion, just like all of them had been this evening, indeed probably for the last several months.  
  
Miranda opened her mouth only to be stopped by the shake of Andrea’s head. Miranda immediately missed her brown eyes as they slipped behind the veil of her hair and the rope slowly was taken from her body.  
  
The blue rope coiled loosely around Andrea’s arm slipped soundlessly to the small table. Andrea stood and visibly willed herself to her full height as she approached Miranda. Her hand tangled with the silver hair and she pressed her lips against Miranda’s willing ones once again. Their lips opened on the second press of their lips and their tongues said all the words that couldn’t be said in the instant between them. Andrea stepped back her hand still at the nape of Miranda’s neck and she said, “This contract has ended.” It was an imitation of how Miranda always ended their lessons. Andrea turned on her heel and pulled the door open just as Miranda had done so many times at the end as well. Before her body had slipped through she whispered, “Thank you.” Miranda stood stunned, naked, and in awe as the door clicked its finality.  
  
*** *** ***  
  
Her clothes were slipped on quickly; however, Miranda found that she had no immediate desire to leave the room. Instead she looked around the room in a slow circle. The single light bulb shone against the silver scissors and reflected off the mirror. In its light she saw the many images of Andrea in this room—standing, kneeling, or sitting. All the images faded away as she imagined Andrea fully clothed kneeling before her, worshiping her. Her body shuddered as a powerful wave of desire flowed through her from her synapses down to the bundle of nerves between her legs. Miranda could not deny how deeply she had wanted Andrea and this ‘lesson’ had proven it was not only because of her power over the brunette.   
  
‘Switch.’ The word came unbidden to her mind and Miranda found that she felt the need to sit down in the only chair in the room. The sudden flash of understanding surprised her. She had taught Andrea to be submissive—how to observe formalities, obey orders, and keep calm at all times. It should not have been a revelation, but learning consisted of the lesson objective and also the unspoken corollaries of that main purpose. By teaching about submission Miranda had demonstrated clearly how to be an eloquent dominant. Just like learning lines of a play a good actor learned not only their own lines; Andrea had learned the whole scene. Andrea could tie the rope or let it wrap around her body and in the process, she had wrapped Miranda around her finger. Several deep breaths served to clarify her thoughts and solidify her attraction to this beautiful woman. Her hands tingled and she stood to make her way out of the practice rooms. Calling Roy was just the first of a series of welcome distractions. It had been so long since she had risked her heart, she just wasn’t sure she knew how anymore.  
  
*** *** ***  
  
A long tenure in fashion required an eye for detail in addition to a kamikaze sense of purpose that meant one would take any risk possible once the right answer was clear. Six’s last lesson was Monday night. Her last day of work would be Friday. Neither woman had spoken to Nigel, but their bodies spoke clearly all the same. Desire, uncertainty, and vulnerability covered by busyness had been loud and clear in every swish of their skirts, polish of their buttons, and look they had quickly averted. Six would be the obvious choice to talk to, he could tell that she was brimming over with questions. That last lesson must have really been something special. He knew that Miranda always could ‘wow’ them in the end. He smiled just thinking of her days on the catwalk and that extra flare she always managed to add to every show. Watching them both, he could tell that Six was waiting for a signal from Miranda—one that had not yet been given.  
  
Eyeing the paperwork on his desk, Nigel’s smile slipped into a sigh. He gathered up the files with pictures and took his life in his hands as he walked out of his office. The path was clear but he feared the crash landing that was nearly guaranteed. Six may have been the safe choice, but the clock was ticking. He would have to talk to the dragon herself.  
  
The elevator doors slid open and he stepped out. His hands tingled and he had a clear image of his hands on the throttle of his kamikaze plane taking aim at the assistants’ area in front of him. ‘I understand why kamikaze pilots wore helmets,’ he thought grimly as he stepped forward. Swallowing his nerves back down into his body, he wished for the quick ending of a fiery explosion instead of the slow burn he was likely to receive for his efforts.  
  
Miranda closed the lid of her laptop and looked over the top of her glasses at the papers he spread out on her desk. Good looking girls, but clearly not models, her eyebrow rose in question, “What are those?” Her voice let the condescension drip into the silence that followed as he placed the last of the six resumes and photos on her desk.  
  
Nigel set his jaw and crossed his arms over his chest. His stance clearly said, ‘We can do this the easy way or the hard way.’ Miranda used the same posture on a daily basis. In fact, her girls could imitate the pose with alacrity.  
  
Reluctantly easing her chair over to take a better look, Miranda realized that they were resumes—Assistant resumes. She pursed her lips and looked up at Nigel. Returning his silent stance with her own, the challenge was clear in her eyes.  
  
“Weeks ago,” he started, “you came upon me giving an impromptu lesson to Six. I asked you if you were going to tether her to you for another year of celibacy or perhaps give her lessons. The chemistry that I saw then has only blossomed into a full-blown connection. The two of you have gone from symbiotic to harmonious.” Nigel paused knowing that his target was acquired and now he simply had to aim his plane right at it—for better or worse. “You have given. Andrea has learned.” He pointed at the resumes on the desk. “The question is whether you want an assistant or something more.” Miranda glanced out to the outer office area and Nigel knew she was remembering that Andrea had been sent on a laundry list of errands. “The clock is ticking, Miranda.”  
  
*** *** ***  
  
‘Mirror, mirror…’ Miranda mocked the mirror as she glanced at it on her way out the front door. The distressed brown leather of her jacket played peek-a-boo with the strip of smooth skin revealed by the plunging neckline of her burgundy dress, a dress that left off at an angle shockingly above her knees. The band of skin visible above her brown Chloe multi buckle leather boots simply drew attention to the skin you couldn’t quite see between her jacket and her breasts. The lack of jewelry and subdued make-up drew several wondering glances as she made her way up to Runway. The simplicity begged the question in their eyes of just what was beneath those two garments even as she dismissed them with a cold stare behind her sunglasses.   
  
Standing in the center of the ring, the lion tamer cracked the whip moving the lions this way and that with the ease of practiced training. Clackers, editors, other magazine employees all shifted before Miranda and around her—sensing that the whip would be used today. Irv Ravitz took one look at her when their appointment time came and after a few choking sounds in his throat he finally gave her some papers and cut the meeting short. Miranda smiled like the crocodile that had taken its prey into the death roll as she returned to her office.  
  
Andrea rushed back into the office and the new girl sprinted to the bathroom in relief. She rolled her eyes as she settled her things in the closet and woke her computer up. She had told her to call Serena or Jocelyn if she needed a break. ‘She has to learn to do this job,’ Andrea thought although she tried to stop her mind from finishing, ‘because I won’t be here next week.’ It killed her that it was closing time on Thursday of her last week and Miranda had not indicated whether she would renew her agreement or cut her loose. Andrea knew it was foolish of her to not line up any other opportunities, but she just couldn’t bring herself to leave Miranda if she didn’t have to. She wasn’t even aware that Miranda had returned from her appointment with Irv until she heard her name, “Andrea.” She checked the time and cringed knowing that a meeting that short with Irv was not likely to have gone well.   
  
Quick steps brought her into the inner office for better or worse. Her feet stopped and her lungs froze as well the instant that she saw the long lines and suggestive beauty of Miranda’s visage at the window. Her fingers tingled with the desire to run her hands inside the brown leather and press against the heat of Miranda’s skin through the thin protection of that burgundy dress. Reminding herself to breathe, Andrea swallowed hard and coughed. Miranda’s eyes caught with hers and they shared a long look.  
  
The phone rang in the outer office and Andrea broke her concentration to turn towards it. Running steps and a squeal announced that the new girl had returned. Andrea returned to Miranda who motioned for her to sit as she slipped into her rolling chair. “Tomorrow at four you will meet with Jason at Rolling Stone.” It was a command, but Miranda’s eyes asked if that would be agreeable. One blink, another blink, and Andrea nodded. Her lessons kicking in, she agreed to the directive of her mistress. Leaning forward Miranda locked her eyes on Andrea’s and added, “The position is an agreement with no celibacy rules. Additionally, there will be no mention of contracts during the first six months and then only by your choice.”  
  
Urgency passed between them as they heard a flutter in the assistant area as the phone rang once more. Andrea traded one breath for another as she continued to hold onto the unspoken between them. Hope filled her but was dashed on the hard knowledge that this conversation was ending. Andrea’s eyes silently asked if her new ‘agreement’ meant that the unspoken between them would be brought forward, but somehow, she knew that until she was truly done as Assistant, that it would not be.   
  
In any case, they were out of time as the new girl loudly stated, “Miranda? I have Patrick returning the call.” The meek one called from the doorway destroying the moment within.  
  
A quick nod from Miranda and her phone was ringing. “Patrick.” Miranda warmed her voice; glad that he would be available for the re-shoot and trying to cover the deep disappointment that things would be left unsaid once again between Andrea and herself.

 

 

…


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And the end ; ) Happy reading ;)

**_Learning Curve. Part 4/4_**.  
  
Rolling Stone was nice. Jason was nice, the writing staff, the break room, her schedule, the regular buzz of a rock star visiting, and her new laptop and workstation—were all very, very nice. Andrea knew that even if it wasn’t the job a million girls would kill for, she was the envy of many in and around the town. Compared to Runway at the end of the day, she hopped on the subway less tired, less stressed and sometimes even before the streetlights had come on. It was a wonderful opportunity. Her mother said so, even her friends told her so. Her apartment was clean and she felt like she had arrived and made something of herself in the big bad city. Sitting down with a beer and her feet up, she sighed sadly, ‘Yes, it’s all very nice.’  
  
An aching had developed in her chest the moment she had left on her last day at Runway. Nothing could replace the terrifying cyclone of Miranda Priestly’s energy stirring the blood in everyone’s veins or the clean lines of the Runway floor, or the secret hideaways on the Closet floor for storage, display, and even some learning and practice. The buzz of a rock star visiting was nothing compared to the sudden silence, tingling and then murmur that was Miranda’s entrance each day. Nice as he was, Jason was not Nigel and would never be able to guide her the same way. She supposed it was part of growing up and having to challenge yourself instead of always having someone to challenge you.  
  
If that was all it was, then she could even have talked herself into being okay with nice.  
  
However, as the night fell over her apartment and Andrea contemplated another glass of wine or going to bed the loss welled up within her like the awful rearing back of a King Cobra before striking. She missed Miranda and there was nothing a nice new job or a nice new life could do about it. There was something missing. It wasn’t the lessons although those had been illuminating. It wasn’t the dominance or even the play of dominating Miranda as she had done on that last lesson. Sighing Andrea had put herself to bed to curl up with her realizations. It was the blue of Miranda’s eyes, the softness of her voice, the warmth of her skin nearby, and the trust and acceptance that had slowly built between them. As an assistant she had felt confident in the teamwork she had been a part of. As her Mistress’ submissive she had treasured the give and take of power slowly developing. However, all the parts became part of the whole and the whole truth was that Andrea Sachs deeply loved Miranda Priestly without any regard to trappings of power, wealth, or social structure. No matter what angle she looked at it from, Andrea knew the truth. Her heart thrummed along in her body each day with the knowledge and the ache that maybe Miranda didn’t feel that way too. Or perhaps worse still, that Miranda did and was going to deny herself, deny Andrea.  
  
Andrea had learned patience from Miranda among so many other things and so she put her skills to good use in each part of her new existence. From her folks she had learned to make the most of any situation and so she plastered a smile on her face and enjoyed the fact that she had been sent to Rolling Stone and that it was nice.  
  
On the second Monday, Andrea consoled herself with words of wisdom from Nigel, “Don’t make me feed you to one of the models.” It hadn’t felt very comforting at the time and it still sounded awfully like a death threat, but now it brought a sad smile to Andrea’s face as she once again contemplated wine or going to bed.  
  
*** *** ***  
  
By the second Friday, Andrea was resigned to a long haul as she changed everything about her life and adjusted. She told herself that just as the first few months at Runway after her days in Chicago had been an adjustment, so would the first few months transitioning to Rolling Stone. The knock on the door surprised her and seeing Miranda Priestly through the peephole shocked her. As much as she missed Miranda, her first instinct was to not answer the door. Seeing Miranda again made her heart flutter and gave her hope wings, but she didn’t want the heart ache of picking herself up off the floor when it was only a one-time thing to ask something about Runway or offer a small congratulation after the fact since her departure had been interrupted and felt abrupt. The moments in between the first set of knocks and the second, Andrea was gripped in a terrible fit of indecision. At length Andrea opened the door because the other choice was unbearable. She knew that no matter what brought Miranda to her doorstep—she had to know. Not knowing would eat her from the inside out—which would not be pretty or end well.   
  
Miranda stepped in setting her bag on the couch as she moved forward but leaving her coat on. Andrea recognized the clasped hands and ready posture as fight or flight when Miranda rose up to her full height but refused to make eye contact. Andrea’s mind flew back to the lesson before last when she had connected trust, love and power and Miranda had ended the lesson quite promptly. Andrea tilted her head in contemplation of her former boss. The trust lesson had ended on a precipice and it took two weeks to revisit. She wondered if two weeks was a set time in Miranda’s brain? What if her daughter had not needed her and they met for that cancelled lesson? Would their dynamic have been stalled or would it have been able to move forward? Did that extra week make it possible for Andrea to suggest being the dominant, even if only in name and for a short practice? Was that why Miranda had sent her off with a blessing but maintained radio silence for two weeks?  
  
Miranda shifted her weight and Andrea knew she had been staring too long, but still was uncertain of what to say. “Hello.” She said timidly, almost a question, “May I—”  
  
Her words stopped when Miranda shook her head and finally made eye contact. “A good lesson can take many forms,” she began. “In formal praxis, an instructor gives information and dictates exercise.” Her nostrils flared slightly as she forced herself to breathe. Andrea clasped her hands together as she faced the woman she had come to know behind the icon. “Often lessons end when the student knows as much as the instructor or can best them in some kind of skills challenge.” Miranda’s eyes had shifted away from Andrea again, but now they locked on her face for emphasis. She wrung her hands together once and then stilled. “I have always thought that informal knowledge sought together was more meaningful and connected people in a shared bond that would go beyond the limits of formality.”  
  
Hanging on every word, Andrea’s mouth dropped open as Miranda finished her sentence and abruptly shut her mouth. The silence vibrated between them in the small living room. She felt like she had been given a surprise kung fu exam by having a ninja pop out from the couch cushions to whack her in the head. Her brain positively fizzled with possible meanings and motives to Miranda’s apparently ‘complete thought’, that felt to Andrea like an iceberg where most of the meaning was really hidden under the surface. She wondered if Miranda had practiced the speech in the car on the way over and then like an oral presentation gone wrong she had omitted a paragraph during the recitation without even knowing it.   
  
“Alright.” Andrea puzzled out loud. “May I take your coat? Get you some coffee?” She stepped forward making sure to move slowly and showing a smile of acceptance. “I think I need a moment to unpack that statement, Miranda.”  
  
Defeated seemed like the right word when Andrea heard the sigh escape from Miranda’s lips, but her hands reached for her coat sliding it off her shoulders. Andrea celebrated a victory for not having scared off the wild animal that had suddenly triggered this fight of flight response and odd linguistic pattern. She hung the coat and passing Miranda, invited her to follow, “There’s a stool in the kitchen.”  
  
Time was always of the essence, but Andrea felt like she had been given a problem that Miranda had already worked on for two weeks and she was left to stand and stare at the board alone. She washed two mugs from the sink and dried them as her brain ran through Miranda’s speech and all of their interactions. Like her answer about bondage extending out to include trust and love Andrea knew that the dynamic of their interaction would change depending on her answer. She willed herself not to worry about a ‘glacial pace’ as she placed the filter, scooped the coffee and filled the water tank. Words began to appear and re-arrange themselves in her mind as the coffee began to percolate. Formal practice, informal knowledge, sought together, shared bond—as they formed and reformed in her mind, Andrea’s heart began to flutter harder and harder as hope fluttered its wings once again.  
  
Andrea turned then and looked at Miranda sitting with her heels tucked on the rung of the stool and her posture still ready to run. Drawing on the success of their last lesson when Andrea had dominated she stepped forward. Her feet would have been on either side of Miranda’s had hers been touching the ground and her body leaned against Miranda’s knees. Andrea wrapped her hands around Miranda’s clasped hands in her lap. She smiled as she looked at Miranda’s eyes, hair, forehead, nose, cheeks that were reddening, and beautiful lips. “You want to learn together with me?” Andrea smiled broadly at the confidence in her voice and the feel of how close their bodies were.  
  
Miranda looked at her smile and then her eyes and then her smile again. She opened her mouth to speak. When the sound did not come right away she swallowed and licked her lips. Trying again, she still found words elusive so she gave a flustered nod while her eyes asked Andrea to believe her.  
  
“What kind of lesson, hmmmm?” Andrea bent so that her cheek slid against Miranda’s. “We have trust.” The scent of Miranda’s skin and the sharp intake of her breath fueled Andrea on. She kissed Miranda’s jaw line. “We’ve shared power.” Another kiss against her jaw and Miranda’s hands shifted under Andrea’s holding them in her own now. “Can we learn about love, Miranda?” Andrea pulled back looking into sapphire eyes that were so wide open to her that she was sure she was seeing all the way through Miranda and mirroring her own desires and wants back at herself.  
  
Not even trying to speak, Miranda nodded and squeezed Andrea’s hands once more.  
  
“Then kiss me.” Andrea whispered against Miranda’s lips as her eyes fluttered shut.  
  
Miranda’s lips pressed against hers with an animal force that took Andrea’s breath away. Pulling away to gasp, Andrea returned to the kiss with her own fire. Moaning as Miranda’s hand pulled away from her own and cupped Andrea’s cheek the brunette felt her knees shake with the intensity. Lips pressed against each other in their third kiss and realization dawned over the both of them. Miranda stood and the lovers wrapped their arms around each other as the kiss deepened. Tongues caressed, lips slipped back and forth, and they sucked each other into their mouths and released with a bite. Breath came in short pants when they could get it and when the need was too great they pulled away to look long into each other’s eyes and caress each other anew. Their eyes finally saw for the first time under the light of this new revelation.   
  
Finally, their knees ready to give out and desires for more beginning to win they separated. “We should talk.” Miranda acknowledged as she let Andrea step away. Catching the amused look on Andrea’s face, she added, “Yes, I can talk now.”   
  
Flexing her arms in a kidding around kind of way, Andrea smiled at her and leaned in for another almost chaste kiss. Pulling away she couldn’t quite help herself as she quipped, “Cat had your tongue, huh?” As she turned away Miranda’s palm made a decisive contact with her jean covered ass cheek causing a jump and pleasant whoo-whoo-whoo sound to come from her young lover. Miranda followed her to the counter pinning her against it from behind. Andrea’s breath caught and her hands thudded against the counter for balance. Her playful look turned feral as Miranda kissed along her neckline. The cold fingertips slipping against her skin as her hair was moved sent tendrils of pleasure down her body. Leaning to the side, Andrea moaned as Miranda took full advantage of her improved access. Andrea’s body moved instinctively against Miranda’s her ass grinding back against Miranda’s sex. “Are you sure we have to talk?” She moaned as Miranda’s hands gripped her hips forcefully.  
  
Miranda stilled against her, “Yes.” Then she nuzzled her face into the curve of Andrea’s neck as she brought her hands all the way around Andrea holding her. “We have not started this in the normal way.” Miranda’s smooth lips rubbed against her skin scoring her with desire. “I want to be sure…” Miranda trailed off just enjoying the sanctuary to her heart that holding Andrea freely brought to her. This was not work, not a contract, not a lesson, but a liaison of love.  
  
Andrea turned in her embrace until they were breast to breast looking into each other’s flushed faces. “I love you, Miranda.” She smiled and shrugged. “It may be backward to start with commands and bondage, but we haven’t rushed in either.”  
  
Miranda kissed her lips quickly and then leaned their foreheads together. “Oh, Andrea, Andrea.” She closed her eyes and Andrea immediately felt the loss. “There’s so much we still don’t know.”   
  
Clutching onto Miranda and pulling her close enough that their cheeks slid together, Andrea held the back of Miranda’s head. She let her fingers soothe along the edge of skin and hair at the back of Mirada’s neck. “Isn’t that what you said will help us form this bond—learning together?”  
  
Her breath came in a puff as Miranda whimpered and held tighter to Andrea. “There’s so much you haven’t done. There’s…” She breathed and half-sobbed breaking Andrea’s heart. “What if you aren’t ready? What if it’s too much?” Miranda began to tremble and she pulled away.  
  
Shocked Andrea rushed the three steps it took to get Miranda back in her arms. “No, no, no. You aren’t going to run away.” Moving quickly Andrea grabbed Miranda’s hand and pulled her into the living room. ‘The couch should be a safe enough place,’ she hoped. She didn’t push Miranda down to the couch, but the difference between guiding and pushing was a close one. Miranda looked up shocked.  
  
Kneeling down so she didn’t tower over Miranda or sit too close and scare her, Andrea assured her, “We can talk, just go slow. We don’t have to figure this out tonight.” She paused letting her words sink in. “You don’t get to quit.” Andrea looked up certain; her eyes demanding a chance as she looked and looked at Miranda.  
  
The heartbeats stretched into breaths that stretched into moments as they looked at and into each other learning even in the short minutes that ticked by and growing as much as they allowed themselves in the instant.  
  
When Miranda nodded Andrea released the breath she had been holding. “Ok. So, let’s start over. Coffee.” She stood up trying to dive in and tread water both at the same time. Fairly certain that Miranda wasn’t going to just get up and leave Andrea made her way back into the kitchen. She poured two cups, added sugar for herself, and returned to the living room.  
  
Centering herself while savoring the coffee, Miranda felt somewhat sheepish for her outburst. Before even considering going to Andrea in her mind, Miranda had already decided that what they had between them was worth pursuing regardless of the risks. It was time and her heart sang for Andrea like it never had for anyone else. Leaning forward she set the coffee down on the old coffee table.  
  
Andrea followed suit putting her cup next to Miranda’s and turning to look at her. “Hi.” She greeted with a sweet smile. Miranda feeling better had leaned back against the cushions and returned her smile and greeting. Andrea pulled Miranda’s arm up and over her as she swooped in cuddling against her silver haired lady. “I don’t mind going slow. I don’t mind talking.” She hummed as she snuggled against Miranda and thrilled to the feel of her arm at first lightly and then with steady force holding her. “But I will not go backwards.” Andrea pulled away just enough to look in Miranda’s eyes on that one. It was important and she had learned that you were supposed to negotiate some of those details early on. Miranda just looked at her, her eyes shining now that she felt buoyed by Andrea’s sudden bossiness and vehement insistence. “Hand holding.” Andrea reached for Miranda’s hand not already around her and entwined their fingers. “Cuddling.” Now she rolled her head to the side rubbing her cheek along Miranda’s arm encircling her. “And kissing.” She kissed Miranda on the forehead, each cheek, the tip of her nose and then chastely on her lips. “Must be allowed.” She looked down her nose at Miranda letting her decide to take the conditions or leave them. Scrunching her eyes up in thought she added, “All kinds of kissing.” Then she claimed Miranda’s lips with her own in gentle, oh so gentle, caresses that gave way to swipes of tongue until they were dancing together and at last left off breathless with a possessive bite and pull on the lower lip as Andrea pulled away.   
  
Amazed blue eyes looked longingly into brown ones until Andrea cracked herself up thinking of the ‘pregnant pause’ as a term for the silence between them just now. Mystified and the spell partially broken, Miranda shook her head and asked, “What is so funny?”  
  
Giggles fading out Andrea answered her, “I was thinking that we had been quiet for a little too long and then the phrase ‘pregnant pause’ popped up and it was funny.” Andrea shrugged sheepishly at her companion.  
  
Silencing her with a kiss Miranda waited until she was quite breathless to draw away. “Those are your terms?”  
  
Andrea’s eyes widened as she realized that Miranda was already headed in her direction. The realization that they were indeed embarking on a relationship of learning about love together with a base of trust and shared power shook her happily to the core. She nodded her acceptance haphazardly even as she was leaning in again meeting Miranda’s lips in a kiss that sealed their new agreement once and for all.  
  
*** *** ***  
  
True to the tenet of going slow, but not backward they sat for long hours on the couch talking, cuddling, and kissing. Some other touching may have gone on, but both willingly filed it away as ‘cuddling.’ It was one of the longest and most relaxed fully clothed personal conversations they had ever had. Stories of childhood trials and tribulations, family travels and secrets, as well as more current thoughts and ideas were shared between them. Fresh coffee and the electricity of their touch fueled them forward and left them longing for more.  
  
“How did you know I wanted lessons?” Andrea knew the mythology of Runway—Miranda knew everything within the halls of Elias-Clark—but she thought that there had to have been some kind of tip off. The blush creeping all the way up into Miranda’s hairline and the lobes of her ears made her look away and Andrea followed kissing her on the neck. “Tell me.” She murmured against Miranda’s pulse point.   
  
Miranda caught her face with both hands and kissed her senseless.   
  
Panting hard from the force of her desire, Andrea widened her eyes in challenge. “Tell me.” She straddled Miranda on the couch and reached for her sides intending to tickle her. Instinctively Miranda’s hands went to the tops of her thighs and they both stilled realizing that they had just made another shift in their interactions. Faces close together, breath mingling, and hands so warm the clothing between them seemed burned away by the fires of their desire—Andrea smiled wickedly as her fingertips trailed deliciously against the skin between Miranda’s shirt and trousers. Miranda shivered and neither of them was sure if it was from sensitivity or anticipation. “Tell me.” Andrea growled as she pressed her thumbs against Miranda’s skin.  
  
Driven by her need Miranda pushed up into Andrea’s body her hands pulling her hips close to her and kissing her neck with a fiery abandon. Her hands trailed up until they too found skin between shirt and trousers. Andrea groaned above her grinding her hips in a circle revving their desires ever higher.  
  
Realizing that Miranda had once again avoided her question in a flicker of thought Andrea pulled her hands up to Miranda’s shoulders and forcefully pushed herself up. The motion ground her hips against Miranda who dug her nails into Andrea’s back as she leaned her forehead into Andrea’s torso groaning in frustration.  
  
Arching back further Andrea used one hand to pull Miranda’s face up. “Tell me.” She snarled.  
  
Eyes fluttering closed as Miranda bit back on her arousal, she thought back. “I saw that little demonstration with Nigel in the Closet.” Miranda clenched her teeth at the memory of his implied smacks on her actually bared ass cheek. “I confronted him.” Miranda let her eyes close again as she buried her face against Andrea and breathed in her wonderful smell.   
  
Andrea giggled and Miranda looked up suddenly into brown eyes full of mirth. At the eyebrow raise in her direction Andrea took a deep breath and tried to explain. “That’s what he meant by…” She trailed off in a fit of giggles as she heard his voice in her head again. Then she leaned farther away from Miranda and tried to clear her face of all joy as she attempted to re-create the moment. “I think he said, ‘Oh, no. When she hands you your ass on the Runway floor, you know. That woman is always ready to mark what’s hers or bend someone back to where they belong.’” Andrea collapsed forward in a fit full of giggles completely missing Miranda’s own snort of laughter. She fell to the side next to Miranda again.  
  
Once Andrea recovered, Miranda started her off all over again by complimenting her acting. “That was good, Andrea.”  
  
From across the room Andrea’s phone chimed and they both turned to look at it. When it didn’t stop Andrea reluctantly pulled away. “I have it set for midnights so I know how late I’ve been or how early it still is.” Andrea set it back down on the side table. Then she stood uncertainly looking down at Miranda. If she sat back down they could very well be there all night, but as much as she wanted to do that to Miranda, she thought it best to strive for some self-control and responsibility.  
  
Miranda stood as well knowing that she should be going if she was going to leave at all. She deeply regretted her earlier freak-out and the subsequent slowing down of their budding relationship. As much as this was their first date, it really wasn’t. Andrea had said I love you and Miranda had implied it. ‘I didn’t tell her back.’ She groaned inwardly at herself. Finding that she wanted to and that it felt natural only solidified things all over again in her mind. “Well, my dear.” Miranda said as she smoothed her clothes down. “I will never think of Friday night the same.”   
  
Taking Miranda’s hand in hers, Andrea pulled her close again. “Did you drive?” Miranda shook her head. “Tell Roy you’ll call him tomorrow.” Andrea cupped Miranda’s cheek as she looked into her eyes willing her to say yes—silently begging her to stay the night, to hold her, and to sleep with her if nothing else.  
  
At Miranda’s nod Andrea kissed her soundly. It took a few moments for them to separate, but then Miranda texted Roy and they were alone on the next step of their learning curve looking timidly at one another for guidance.  
  
*** *** ***  
  
Andrea pulled Miranda into her bedroom and then scampered back to turn off the lights in the living room and kitchen. Unsure of what to do Miranda just waited. It felt like the reverse of one of their lessons when Andrea had to wait patiently for Miranda to return. She smiled looking down at the bed she was going to lie in. Slowly she stepped out of her heels. Just when anticipation was going to kill her, Andrea came back in. “I don’t have sleepwear, Andrea.”  
  
There it was again that sweet infused smile and Miranda found herself returning it with her whole heart. “We’ve seen each other naked before.” Andrea stepped close and her hands slipped to the edge of Miranda’s shirt without hesitation finding skin. “My fingers have touched you.” Andrea let her finger tips ghost touch up and down Miranda’s sides, around her back and then even boldly the front where she hovered over Miranda’s breasts in their lace prisons. “Like this, remember?” Andrea stepped closer and whispered in her ear as her hand trailed down the front center of Miranda’s body pausing to tease her bellybutton, caress the edge of her trousers, and then to cup her sex. “I’ve worshipped you.” Andrea flicked her fingers from side to side changing the touch into something else. “I’ve teased you.” Both of Andrea’s hands came up around Miranda’s back unclasping her bra with a skill that she should not possess or some kind of mad luck. Not pausing for a second, Andrea kept her touch firm as she brought her hands back to Miranda’s breasts cupping the sides of them and then palming against them and pulling away until just the fingertips ghosted the sensitive edges of hardened nipples. “Like this.” She said as she kissed Miranda’s jaw line. Then like soothing a sour by licking the salt, Andrea smoothed her hands warmly down Miranda’s sides until she let her hands fall away. Before Miranda could form a coherent reaction, Andrea slipped her top off revealing bare breasts to her lover’s hungry eyes. Andrea grabbed Miranda’s hands pulling them up to her sides, leading her. “You’ve teased me.” Andrea swayed her rib cage around forcing Miranda’s hands to slide against her skin. Again, she leaned forward kissing Miranda’s cheek on the corner of her mouth. Miranda’s thumbs stroked once, and then twice on their own. Then her hands were ghost touching all of Andrea’s skin as if for the first time. “You’ve worshipped me, haven’t you?” Andrea’s body clenched and she moaned as Miranda palmed her breasts trailing off teasing the peaks of her nipples. Andrea ached from the inside out but had no words for the desires that were claiming her.   
  
Reaching with both hands Miranda pulled Andrea roughly to her in a kiss promising so much more. Swiftly, tugging Andrea’s body with her movements Miranda unbuttoned the jeans, unzipped them and then jerkily tore them down her lover’s legs. “Who taught you seduction?” The question and its answer were cut off as Miranda hummed against Andrea’s lips and guided her to the bed.  
  
Joy erupting out of her, laughter filled the room Andrea fell to the low bed her breasts bouncing and anticipation beating through her faster than her blood. As her legs fell open she could feel her wetness on the panties and smiled knowing that Miranda was going to claim her soon, be the first to touch her there and slide within. Miranda slowly unbuttoned her shirt and let it slip to the floor with her already undone bra. Miranda’s breasts swinging free drew a guttural noise from Andrea who tried to sit up and reach for her. Not giving her a chance, Miranda crawled up on the bed over Andrea pressing her back down into the mattress with a kiss. Body language and tantalizing caresses lead Andrea into the middle of the bed where Miranda wanted her.  
  
Breaking the kiss Miranda looked down into deep brown eyes flecked with gold. Andrea craned her neck reaching for Miranda even as the other woman pulled away. “No, no.” Andrea moaned when she could not get her kiss. “I am going to worship you properly.”   
  
Leaning down Miranda kissed her lover once again moving her body lower as she pulled out of the kiss. Tasting her way down Andrea’s neck and across her shoulders, Miranda followed all the way down one arm and then kissed her way back across to the other. Returning to center she let her tongue dance with Andrea’s until they were both panting and Andrea’s body was restlessly thrashing underneath her on the bed. Miranda kissed down her neck—biting, licking and then finally sucking hard on the soft skin; marking what was hers. She kissed down to Andrea’s breast, her lips brushing all around the slope of her flesh in tender kisses until at last her tongue was circling the tender taut peak of her nipple. Her hunger for Andrea spiraling out of control, Miranda breathed deep as she let go of the nipple with an audible pop. The press of her trousers against her sex teasing her, Miranda paused a moment letting her hips lean to the side. Then she kissed her way across the flesh between Andrea’s breasts to the other waiting one. Gasping for air and moaning, Andrea’s grip on her arms tightened with every tease.  
  
Miranda released the nipple from between her teeth and kissed down the line of Andrea’s abdomen to her navel. She dipped her tongue around the edge only to be shaken off by a violent thrust of Andrea’s body. Miranda kissed back up between her breasts and then where the heart should be she came to a stop. She let her breath even out and Andrea’s body settle slowly under her. Then she kissed that spot again and again whispering so low that it could not be heard over their breathing. Miranda kissed the spot over Andrea’s heart once more and then so that Andrea could finally hear her, she repeated her mantra one more time. “I love you.”  
  
The moan Andrea let out was followed by a shudder of electricity through her that was unprecedented in either of their lives. Andrea clutched at Miranda pulling her back up to her mouth again. “I love you. I love you.” She repeated between kisses, needing Miranda to feel her words more than ever.  
  
“I love you.” Miranda echoed back as she kissed her lover.  
  
Feeling the tide of need returning, Miranda pulled away and slipped down her paramour’s body. Reaching down with her arms, Miranda trailed thrilling touches up and down the inner and outer sides of Andrea’s legs as she kissed and licked and nipped with her lips, tongue and teeth. Andrea’s hipbones stood out below the high panty line of green lace and Miranda sucked there on each side. Lovingly she traced the line of demarcation between thigh and hip until she found herself breathing in the heavenly aroma of her lover’s wetness. Nuzzling her nose against the fabric, Miranda could not help but lick it and tease Andrea’s sex behind it as her nails scraped up the outsides of Andrea’s legs. Hooking her fingers under the edge of the panties, she broke the exploration of her lover’s body off only to pull that last barrier down and away from Andrea’s legs.  
  
Returning to her place, Miranda kissed each hip whispering against the skin over and over, “I love you.” She slipped her arms under Andrea’s legs bringing them up and over her shoulders as her tongue sought out its first taste of divine wetness from Andrea’s wellspring. Miranda gave herself over to the fire within her as she tasted, explored and worshipped her lover. She drew the desire from Andrea like notes from an instrument and she played the song of their love on her tongue. Long strokes spread Andrea’s sex slowly and surely until she was begging Miranda for more, always more. Then Miranda hardened her tongue and plunged inside of Andrea as deep as she could go, her whole face loving Andrea, her nose teasing against the hard nub at the apex of her sex—and again Andrea was begging, ‘Miranda, please.’ Miranda circled and circled Andrea as she finally found the zenith of their passion on the modest peak there. Andrea’s body shuddered and thrashed, her hands pulling at the bed sheets and pillows until she grabbed onto the headboard like her last bastion of security in a storm.  
  
Miranda cooed against her lover, breathing on her hot sex as she brought one hand toward Andrea’s center. Two fingers stroked all the way up and down Andrea’s sex smearing her desire back into itself and around all the folds and hidden skin. Andrea hovered on an edge of ecstasy that she knew beyond a shadow of a doubt eclipsed any drug or adrenalin junkies’ high. She felt it so keenly that she thought she would go insane if she was not let out to soar with it soon. ‘Miranda, Miranda, please,’ her pleas came out mere whimpers, but Miranda was not immune to her, she was just waiting for the crescendo.  
  
Two fingers played at Andrea’s entrance going no deeper than Miranda’s tongue had before. Miranda lowered her mouth down, sucking on Andrea’s clit as her fingers pushed past the slight barrier of skin—taking Andrea, claiming her for the first time and for always as her tongue lightly flicked and her mouth continued to suck. Andrea screamed. Her legs crushed tightly against Miranda and then her body was writhing and grinding against Miranda in violent awesome shudders of release and desire and more release. Miranda stroked the secret places within her lover and her tongue throbbed in time with her pulse. Loudly sucking for breath, Andrea pushed and kicked and begged Miranda senselessly. “Please, please.”   
  
Climbing up Andrea’s body, Miranda let her fingers slip away from her lover’s sex as she lay against her. Andrea’s body spasmed in reaction and she cried out. Miranda shifted and undoing her trousers she shimmied out of them. Lying against Andrea letting their heat combine, Miranda reached for the blanket to cover them. Andrea grasped valiantly at consciousness kissing Miranda once and declaring in a heartfelt whisper, “I love you.” Miranda’s echo was lost in dreamland as Andrea snuggled into Miranda and contented slumbers.  
  
**Fin.**  
  
  
...


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